[Sweethearts Week] Sealed with a Kiss Theme (Fic)
This is my First fanfiction I post here. As the titel says it's for the Sweethearts Week. I hope you'll like it.^^
England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. England had enjoyed most of them, but some he had hated more than anything else. But in the end, most of them weren’t worthy to be remembered for longer than a few decades anyway.
When the Island Nation was still young and oblivious he’d always thought that a kiss must be something special you only share between lovers or persons you care for. He’d believed that his first kiss would be a kiss of pure love, like it’s supposed to be. Well, it wasn’t.
As England grew up he learned that feelings were something very complicated and a kiss mostly nothing but a habitual gesture.
The centuries passed like seconds and when England first set foot on the shores of the New World, he already felt like an old man who was already tired of living. He had come here in order to take control of the new found nation, a child called America.
He complained at first, but when he heard that France was also after the boy he was eager to do everything in his might to prevent that.
Not that he cared about the boy, not really. He’d never liked children that much, even though they seemed to like him. He just didn’t want France to get a hold of America. It would weaken his own position after all.
So they fought about him day after day without a clear victory. England was frustrated and angry. Now that the fight went on for so long, he wanted to win even more. He wanted to have America by his side no matter what.
In the end, the two European nations saw no other way then to ask America himself which one of them should become his older brother.
When France came and brought some of his fancy food Arthur was sure that he already had lost. He sat down on the ground, angry and frustrated. He began to cry a little, something he usually didn’t do, especially not in public. After a very short time he was about to get up and leave the place when he felt a tiny hand touching his arm. “Are you ok?” A soft voice asked him and he turned around to see little America’s worried face. “No.” Was his short reply. Did he look so miserable that a young child like this began to worry about him? England thought and sighted inwardly.
“You’re hurt?” The boy asked again and England, almost unnoticeable, nodded.
“I’ll kiss it better then.” America cheered and placed a gentle kiss on the older nations cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you America.” The blond man smiled a bit unsure. It felt strange but comforting. He patted the boys head and got up. From that day on England was his brother, his caretaker. And he was more than happy about it. Not because he had beat France and got what he wanted, no, just because he learned how to treasure the live of this innocent little boy, who soon would become the most precious thing in his world.
But the peace England felt while being with America faded away too soon. His little colony grew up to be a strong nation himself that wanted to be free from any rules others forced on him.
And those cute, innocent and comforting kisses they used to share, that both had treasured greatly, were forgotten for a long long time.
It was after the Blitz when England and America first met again. The older nation stood on a hill and looked down on his burning capital. His body was covered in bloody bandages, bruises and cuts. He had been shot several times but all that didn’t matter right now. So many houses were destroyed, so many people died, and were still dying. And he could do nothing about it but staring helplessly at the flames that devoured London, that devoured his body and his heart. He felt useless and weak but more than all, he felt alone.
Silent tears ran down his dirty cheeks and a soft sob left his throat. He didn’t hear the footsteps of a stranger that approached him. It was a young man in a green military dress and a brown bomber jacket. He stood next to England silently, waiting for the older man to notice his presence.
“Why are you here?” Arthur asked with a hoarse voice that sounded like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. “I don’t need your pity. I can hold my ground. I always could.” He said with the strongest voice he could manage. “I don’t need any of those so called allies. In the end they weren’t able to do anything. Bloody useless frog and the others. Don’t need any of them. Especially not you.”
England turned around to face America. His gaze strong and unwilling to give up. He expected the younger nation to laugh at him. To tell him how miserable and pitiful he was. But he wouldn’t show any weakness in front of that ungrateful brat. He would show him, that the British Empire would remain no matter what.
But whatever England might have expected, it didn’t came. No laughter, nor teasing, no sarcastic comment. America simply stood there and watched him with his sad blue eyes.
“I know.” Alfred whispered after a while. “You’re strong and unbending. You did what many others couldn’t have done.” He said with a soft voice and wrapped his arms carefully around his former caretaker.
“If you know that…then why did you came here?” It took all of England strength to keep his voice steady so he was unable to protest against the embrace. And deep inside his heart he felt happy to be hold like this. His tired body leaned closer to America grateful for the warmth.
The taller man lifted his chin a little and placed a soft kiss on his forehead and cheek.
“I came to ease your pain.”
England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. But none of them were as precious as those innocent, comforting little pecks he shared with America. And even though there was no romantic meaning behind them, England had never felt more loved in his live.
England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. England had enjoyed most of them, but some he had hated more than anything else. But in the end, most of them weren’t worthy to be remembered for longer than a few decades anyway.
When the Island Nation was still young and oblivious he’d always thought that a kiss must be something special you only share between lovers or persons you care for. He’d believed that his first kiss would be a kiss of pure love, like it’s supposed to be. Well, it wasn’t.
As England grew up he learned that feelings were something very complicated and a kiss mostly nothing but a habitual gesture.
The centuries passed like seconds and when England first set foot on the shores of the New World, he already felt like an old man who was already tired of living. He had come here in order to take control of the new found nation, a child called America.
He complained at first, but when he heard that France was also after the boy he was eager to do everything in his might to prevent that.
Not that he cared about the boy, not really. He’d never liked children that much, even though they seemed to like him. He just didn’t want France to get a hold of America. It would weaken his own position after all.
So they fought about him day after day without a clear victory. England was frustrated and angry. Now that the fight went on for so long, he wanted to win even more. He wanted to have America by his side no matter what.
In the end, the two European nations saw no other way then to ask America himself which one of them should become his older brother.
When France came and brought some of his fancy food Arthur was sure that he already had lost. He sat down on the ground, angry and frustrated. He began to cry a little, something he usually didn’t do, especially not in public. After a very short time he was about to get up and leave the place when he felt a tiny hand touching his arm. “Are you ok?” A soft voice asked him and he turned around to see little America’s worried face. “No.” Was his short reply. Did he look so miserable that a young child like this began to worry about him? England thought and sighted inwardly.
“You’re hurt?” The boy asked again and England, almost unnoticeable, nodded.
“I’ll kiss it better then.” America cheered and placed a gentle kiss on the older nations cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you America.” The blond man smiled a bit unsure. It felt strange but comforting. He patted the boys head and got up. From that day on England was his brother, his caretaker. And he was more than happy about it. Not because he had beat France and got what he wanted, no, just because he learned how to treasure the live of this innocent little boy, who soon would become the most precious thing in his world.
But the peace England felt while being with America faded away too soon. His little colony grew up to be a strong nation himself that wanted to be free from any rules others forced on him.
And those cute, innocent and comforting kisses they used to share, that both had treasured greatly, were forgotten for a long long time.
It was after the Blitz when England and America first met again. The older nation stood on a hill and looked down on his burning capital. His body was covered in bloody bandages, bruises and cuts. He had been shot several times but all that didn’t matter right now. So many houses were destroyed, so many people died, and were still dying. And he could do nothing about it but staring helplessly at the flames that devoured London, that devoured his body and his heart. He felt useless and weak but more than all, he felt alone.
Silent tears ran down his dirty cheeks and a soft sob left his throat. He didn’t hear the footsteps of a stranger that approached him. It was a young man in a green military dress and a brown bomber jacket. He stood next to England silently, waiting for the older man to notice his presence.
“Why are you here?” Arthur asked with a hoarse voice that sounded like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. “I don’t need your pity. I can hold my ground. I always could.” He said with the strongest voice he could manage. “I don’t need any of those so called allies. In the end they weren’t able to do anything. Bloody useless frog and the others. Don’t need any of them. Especially not you.”
England turned around to face America. His gaze strong and unwilling to give up. He expected the younger nation to laugh at him. To tell him how miserable and pitiful he was. But he wouldn’t show any weakness in front of that ungrateful brat. He would show him, that the British Empire would remain no matter what.
But whatever England might have expected, it didn’t came. No laughter, nor teasing, no sarcastic comment. America simply stood there and watched him with his sad blue eyes.
“I know.” Alfred whispered after a while. “You’re strong and unbending. You did what many others couldn’t have done.” He said with a soft voice and wrapped his arms carefully around his former caretaker.
“If you know that…then why did you came here?” It took all of England strength to keep his voice steady so he was unable to protest against the embrace. And deep inside his heart he felt happy to be hold like this. His tired body leaned closer to America grateful for the warmth.
The taller man lifted his chin a little and placed a soft kiss on his forehead and cheek.
“I came to ease your pain.”
England had had many kisses in his very long live. Some of them were passionate, wild and lustful while others were soft, gentle and almost shy. But none of them were as precious as those innocent, comforting little pecks he shared with America. And even though there was no romantic meaning behind them, England had never felt more loved in his live.