Just Like Every Other Station
Title: Just Like Every Other Station
Author: jade_rzeznic
Recipient: jessa_bellee
Genre: Humor, fluff
Rating: PG
Warnings: kissing, language-ish
Summary: England had planned to go back to his hotel on Christmas Eve, but America had to go and try to serenade him like the cheesy idiot he was. And it had to be that song.
Just Like Every Other Station
~
I really can’t stay.
Baby, it’s cold outside.
I’ve got to go away.
Baby, it’s cold outside.
This evening has been-
Been hoping you’d drop in.
-so very nice.
I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice.
~
It had been over six months since America and England had begun dating, and nearly a month since they’d begun sleeping together. It was also Christmas Eve, and though it certainly wasn’t unprecedented for England to stay over at America’s house for the night, he wasn’t planning on it tonight. Rather, he had a particularly inspired (and potentially mortifying) idea to show up on Christmas morning and let himself in to wake America up with a certain, erm, intimate gift that was really only appropriate between couples.
So as the sun had long set and they’d run out of classic Christmas films to watch, England felt it was time to excuse himself to his hotel for a few hours of sleep before he’d have to drag his sorry arse out of bed at some ungodly hour to wake before his ever bright-and-early lover. However, he didn’t foresee America clinging quite as thoroughly as he did.
“But Englaaaaand,” he said, dragging the word into a whine as he quite literally clung to England’s waist. England had tried to peacefully vacate the couch, shortly to be followed by his vacating the premises, but America was having none of it.
“Why d’you gotta leave?” he said into England’s shoulder. “It’s not like you haven’t stayed before and it’s freaking Christmas Eve! Come on!”
“Alfred, you’re being ridiculous,” England chastised, petting America’s hair gently anyway. “Haven’t we discussed that either of us should be able to stay and go as we wish? I expect you to respect my wishes as I would respect yours.”
America loosened his death grip on England’s waist to look at him in shock.
“Are you serious?” he halfway gasped. “That rule’s, like, dead on holidays. You’re supposed to spend holidays with your boyfriend, stupid!”
“Oh yes,” England scoffed. “Insult me. I’ll be swooning into your arms in no time.”
America gave him a cheeky, self-satisfied grin. “You’re already in my arms.”
Not to let him continue to be right, England scowled and immediately began squirming, slapping at America’s arms. He didn’t give up easily, and it evolved into an all-out wrestling match on the floor before England got any headway.
Still, by the time England got America onto his back, they were both a bit out of breath and America had started laughing too much to be a real threat. England would have been insulted by his lack of real fight if he didn’t have this nasty habit of losing focus whenever he had America between his legs - which was really the only way to pin him effectively to the carpet by his hips.
“Now,” he huffed, sitting up but keeping a hold on America’s wrists so he couldn’t follow. “I’m going back to my hotel and I will see you tomorrow morning for Christmas.”
America unabashedly pouted. “You sure you have to go? We could watch Nightmare Before Christmas or something.”
“I really can’t stay,” England said, standing. He should have noticed the grin crawling over America’s features, but he didn’t. Instead, England was preoccupied with brushing invisibly dirt off his knees when America replied in a sing-song voice.
“Baby, it’s cold outside~”
England’s head shot up and he gave America an affronted look before it turned suspicious.
“Alfred,” he started, “Don’t you dare.”
“Baby, it’s cold outside~” He dared. He not only dared to continued the stupid song, but America dared to sit up and smile like some idiotic, endearing…thing.
“Look, this evening has-” he broke off, cursing when he realized he’d continued the lyrics by some accident. America took it like an invitation to continue, however, and got to his own feet, following England as he attempted to back away and escape out the door.
“Been hoping you’d drop in~”
“I didn’t mean-” England stopped as his back hit the front door and America kept singing. He wasn’t that good of a singer, anyway, England told himself. It was only decent just now because he wasn’t being a high-pitched, over-excited ponce about it, and it- it wasn’t even the slightest bit sexy.
“I’ll hold your hands; they’re just like ice.” Smiling warmly, America reached to do just that, clasping England’s hands in his own and rubbing his thumbs along the backs of them. England felt his face flame in response.
“Alfred, for god’s sake!” he snapped, trying to tug his hands away halfheartedly. It wouldn’t do to give in and lose the chance to give America his Christmas surprise, even if he was being adorably cheesy.
But then America was rubbing England’s hands more vigorously and looking worried, and it became much easier to remember England was not staying the night.
“Seriously, Arthur, did you put your hands in the freezer?” America asked, loud and grating even as he tried to be caring. England wasn’t particularly impressed, and pulled his hands back to glare at his lover.
“There you go again,” he snapped. “Insulting me when you’re trying to get on my good side. How do you expect to get anywhere with tactics like that?”
“Because you love me,” America said softly, grabbing back England’s hands and dropping them over his shoulders. “And cause it’s not an insult. It’s the truth. I worry about you going out in my stupidly cold winter.”
He leaned forward to nuzzle against England’s neck and the smaller man kept his glower in place only through sheer force of incredible will. Really, the man was incorrigible. Always believing a bit of affection would stop England from calling him out on behaving like a selfish moron.
“Perhaps I have presents for you I’ve left at my hotel,” England said, trying to persuade America to stop throwing a fit without giving away his plans.
“I can wait,” America replied quickly.
England laughed at that. “Hardly. Your patience lasts all of twelve seconds,” he pointed out, fondness slipping into his voice unbidden.
“I can so be patient,” America protested. He didn’t remove his face from where it was nestled against England’s throat, however, and was quiet for a few seconds before he mumbled, “I’d rather have you.”
“You’re being silly,” England insisted after a second of being rather touched.
America shook his head in the negative, wrapping his arms tightly around England’s middle. For what appeared to be no reason at all, he also decided to place a line of barely-there kisses along England’s throat up to where his jaw and ear met.
“You’re gonna be my best present anyway,” America said softly, and England could practically feel his blush. “And besides, baby, it’s-”
“Yes, I know, cold outside,” England cut him off. “Look, I’ll stay if you agree not to sing that song again. It’s creepy.”
America’s head popped up, his expression caught between joy and confusion. “How’s it creepy? It’s sweet.”
“’Say, what’s in this drink?’” England recited skeptically. “That doesn’t seem a bit questionable to you?”
“Dude, you’re taking that way too seriously,” America laughed. The laughter hadn’t even left his face when he pressed England against the door, kissing him deeply. His arms were already in place, so England let himself tug America closer, not objecting until his lover’s hands started sneaking their way under his shirt. At that, he dropped one hand to America’s chest and gently pushed him away.
“The other condition is that we go to sleep,” England said firmly. “Now.”
America pouted. “But if you’re already staying-”
“No,” he insisted. “You’ll wake me up at the bloody crack of dawn, you child. I need all the sleep I can get.” And he’d need even more if he had any hope of waking up before America. Because, he supposed, it wasn’t like he couldn’t give America a nice round of morning sex for Christmas even after sleeping over. He’d just rather not wear them both out tonight if that was the plan.
“Fine,” America agreed, rolling his eyes. “But your hands are still freaking icy. So! Cuddle time!”
With that, America scooped England into his arms and carted him off to America’s room, ignoring his lover’s protests the entire way. England resigned himself to snuggling as America tossed him onto the bed and leapt after him. Hell, at least America wasn’t singing overplayed Christmas tunes at him anymore. England could be grateful for that much.
-
A/N: Had to make it not the usual formula, so England gets to bitch about being serenaded. Cause he would.