[Hetalia] "A Hook on the Wall"
Written for octoberwriting.
~*~
Title: "A Hook on the Wall"
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: America/Canada
Prompt: 6. Hook @ fanfic50, 32. Water @ lover100
Word Count: 1,210
Rating: PG-13
Summary: America was having a rough day, he comes home expecting to be alone and finds a welcome surprise.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warning: Hetalia deals with the personification of nation-states. Some of the stories are historical in nature and others are examining them as just people.
Notes: I really don't know how I came up with this... although I do have to say it would be awesome to have a significant other at home to surprise me like this when I had a bad day. :)
The hook hung there completely unassuming on the wall. It had been there for over 200 years. America had taken it out of the old house he had shared with England, keeping it as a tribute to another time. Many an object had hung on it over the years; everything from scarves to keys to holsters to medals to other odds and ends. Nowadays he mostly hung his old bomber jacket there, the leather worn, comfortable, and broken in. The collar was frayed more than it was in the old days. The fastenings had been repaired more than once. It was as much a part of him as his glasses and his cowlick.
The rain relentlessly dropped from the sky, mirroring the way American felt. However, no one would recognize the pain behind his smile, he had become far too talented at hiding. A smile could convey a thousand things, and the others still hadn't picked up on all of them. On days like this he wished that reality could just accommodate his dreams. It would make his existence easier. Instead of even being considered his plans were usually brushed aside, attention turn toward someone older and more experienced. He would just be written off as a silly kid with ideas that would never work.
He sighed as he unlocked the front door, trying to shake off the errant water droplets that held on to every inch of him. He dropped his keys in the entry table, and sloughed off his soaking jacket. He moved to hang it on the aged hook but paused, a coat as familiar as his own hung there instead.
The unassuming old hook had held various coats belonging to this owner before, almost as many times as it had held America's. The first time it had been a winter coat, its owner wearing a worried expression of doing something he wasn't supposed to. America had welcomed him in. Once, before the hook had been moved to the new house, it had held a soldier's coat, a soldier from the other side. That was not one of the better memories. There had been dress jackets and rain coats. But often it held this coat, a coat from the same era as America's beloved bomber jacket. America reached out and touched the tan coat, brushing his fingers over the straps and fur. It was still wet.
He was here. The one person who knew him inside and out. The person that almost was him.
He settled his bomber jacket over the other North American's and went looking for him. Canada couldn't have been that far ahead of him, since the water droplets on the stairs had not yet dried. America followed the short trail toward the bathroom door. The door was slightly ajar, the sound of water running from beyond it. Steam was escaping through the opening. America pushed the door and came inside, the warmth fogging up his glasses and he had to pull them off, "Matt, I thought you wanted us to ask permission from now on?"
Canada's fingers were stretched out under the water and he glanced at America over his shoulder. "This is payback for that time your raided my fridge." he gave him a small smile. America blushed, remembering the event. Although, he couldn't quite see how setting up a bath was payback, unless Canada was just running up his water bill.
"I did cook for you." he retorted, shivering slightly from his rain-soaked clothes. He closed the bathroom door behind him so that the steam could begin to thaw him from his terrible day. He slumped against the door. Canada stood up from the tub and walked over to him. America waited for the rest of Canada's long-standing end of their jokes about being in each other's houses. However, he just brushed his fingers across America's cheek. When America's blue eyes met Canada's violet he knew that Canada realized that something was bothering him.
"It's been a long day." America said, preempting Canada's inquiry, "Is that bath for me?"
Canada nodded, "For us both, unless you don't want..."
"I feel like it, don't worry." he flashed the smile that fooled so many of them, but not the one who had always been pressed against his side. he didn't mention anything through as he walked over to turn off the tap. They undressed in silence and America didn't have the heart to protest when Canada climbed in first. He offered him a warm place for him to settle. He had always been too embarrassed to say it, but he liked Canada having his back, whatever form that took.
America settled against the northern nation's chest and Canada wrapped his arms around him. They sat in silence for a while. America closed his eyes and listened to the water lapping against the sides of the tub and the steady rhythm of his lover's breathing. America buried his nose against the side of America's neck and just held him.
In and out, in and out, their breathing was only slightly out of sync.
"Are you ready to tell me?" Canada asked, squeezing him lightly around the middle.
"Can't, it's classified." America breathed, leaning more heavily on him. He felt Canada nod. It was one of those things that they had to accept at time, a condition of what they were.
America shifted slightly, "Hey, trade place with me." Canada didn't argue. They shifted and America wrapped his arms around the other man. He breathed in the scent of his lover. "You know, we should go hang out at one of our ski condos. We can ski all day and then have hot chocolate and stuff." he said to Canada's damp hair. They molded together, just as their two jackets on the hook in the front hall. Warmth spreading from one to the other.
Canada chuckled, "And stuff? That does sound nice though, get away from business for a while."
America kissed the back of his neck, "Mhmm." That's what he wanted more than anything at the moment, to just be able to have some quiet as in the old days. When they would don their old woolen coats and disappear into the wilderness for a few weeks, neither of their bosses being able to find them. They had done that since they were small, running away from England or France and just playing in the woods for days. "We could turn off our phones and stuff."
"There's that 'and stuff' again, eh? Makes me wonder what you have in mind." He turned his head and kissed America on the cheek. America smiled. Canada smiled back, "There's the person I know."
The northerner turned around and tickled him lightly on the ribs which made America's smile widen, "You know, I'm glad to be stuck with you."
"Me too, most of the time." Canada replied, America poked him playfully in the side. They settled against each other until the water turned cold. Somehow it lifted America's spirit, knowing that someone always had his back, and vice versa. The greatest part was that he could see no reason for it to ever end. They would always find a hook for their coats on one another's walls.
~*~
Title: "A Hook on the Wall"
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: America/Canada
Prompt: 6. Hook @ fanfic50, 32. Water @ lover100
Word Count: 1,210
Rating: PG-13
Summary: America was having a rough day, he comes home expecting to be alone and finds a welcome surprise.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warning: Hetalia deals with the personification of nation-states. Some of the stories are historical in nature and others are examining them as just people.
Notes: I really don't know how I came up with this... although I do have to say it would be awesome to have a significant other at home to surprise me like this when I had a bad day. :)
The hook hung there completely unassuming on the wall. It had been there for over 200 years. America had taken it out of the old house he had shared with England, keeping it as a tribute to another time. Many an object had hung on it over the years; everything from scarves to keys to holsters to medals to other odds and ends. Nowadays he mostly hung his old bomber jacket there, the leather worn, comfortable, and broken in. The collar was frayed more than it was in the old days. The fastenings had been repaired more than once. It was as much a part of him as his glasses and his cowlick.
The rain relentlessly dropped from the sky, mirroring the way American felt. However, no one would recognize the pain behind his smile, he had become far too talented at hiding. A smile could convey a thousand things, and the others still hadn't picked up on all of them. On days like this he wished that reality could just accommodate his dreams. It would make his existence easier. Instead of even being considered his plans were usually brushed aside, attention turn toward someone older and more experienced. He would just be written off as a silly kid with ideas that would never work.
He sighed as he unlocked the front door, trying to shake off the errant water droplets that held on to every inch of him. He dropped his keys in the entry table, and sloughed off his soaking jacket. He moved to hang it on the aged hook but paused, a coat as familiar as his own hung there instead.
The unassuming old hook had held various coats belonging to this owner before, almost as many times as it had held America's. The first time it had been a winter coat, its owner wearing a worried expression of doing something he wasn't supposed to. America had welcomed him in. Once, before the hook had been moved to the new house, it had held a soldier's coat, a soldier from the other side. That was not one of the better memories. There had been dress jackets and rain coats. But often it held this coat, a coat from the same era as America's beloved bomber jacket. America reached out and touched the tan coat, brushing his fingers over the straps and fur. It was still wet.
He was here. The one person who knew him inside and out. The person that almost was him.
He settled his bomber jacket over the other North American's and went looking for him. Canada couldn't have been that far ahead of him, since the water droplets on the stairs had not yet dried. America followed the short trail toward the bathroom door. The door was slightly ajar, the sound of water running from beyond it. Steam was escaping through the opening. America pushed the door and came inside, the warmth fogging up his glasses and he had to pull them off, "Matt, I thought you wanted us to ask permission from now on?"
Canada's fingers were stretched out under the water and he glanced at America over his shoulder. "This is payback for that time your raided my fridge." he gave him a small smile. America blushed, remembering the event. Although, he couldn't quite see how setting up a bath was payback, unless Canada was just running up his water bill.
"I did cook for you." he retorted, shivering slightly from his rain-soaked clothes. He closed the bathroom door behind him so that the steam could begin to thaw him from his terrible day. He slumped against the door. Canada stood up from the tub and walked over to him. America waited for the rest of Canada's long-standing end of their jokes about being in each other's houses. However, he just brushed his fingers across America's cheek. When America's blue eyes met Canada's violet he knew that Canada realized that something was bothering him.
"It's been a long day." America said, preempting Canada's inquiry, "Is that bath for me?"
Canada nodded, "For us both, unless you don't want..."
"I feel like it, don't worry." he flashed the smile that fooled so many of them, but not the one who had always been pressed against his side. he didn't mention anything through as he walked over to turn off the tap. They undressed in silence and America didn't have the heart to protest when Canada climbed in first. He offered him a warm place for him to settle. He had always been too embarrassed to say it, but he liked Canada having his back, whatever form that took.
America settled against the northern nation's chest and Canada wrapped his arms around him. They sat in silence for a while. America closed his eyes and listened to the water lapping against the sides of the tub and the steady rhythm of his lover's breathing. America buried his nose against the side of America's neck and just held him.
In and out, in and out, their breathing was only slightly out of sync.
"Are you ready to tell me?" Canada asked, squeezing him lightly around the middle.
"Can't, it's classified." America breathed, leaning more heavily on him. He felt Canada nod. It was one of those things that they had to accept at time, a condition of what they were.
America shifted slightly, "Hey, trade place with me." Canada didn't argue. They shifted and America wrapped his arms around the other man. He breathed in the scent of his lover. "You know, we should go hang out at one of our ski condos. We can ski all day and then have hot chocolate and stuff." he said to Canada's damp hair. They molded together, just as their two jackets on the hook in the front hall. Warmth spreading from one to the other.
Canada chuckled, "And stuff? That does sound nice though, get away from business for a while."
America kissed the back of his neck, "Mhmm." That's what he wanted more than anything at the moment, to just be able to have some quiet as in the old days. When they would don their old woolen coats and disappear into the wilderness for a few weeks, neither of their bosses being able to find them. They had done that since they were small, running away from England or France and just playing in the woods for days. "We could turn off our phones and stuff."
"There's that 'and stuff' again, eh? Makes me wonder what you have in mind." He turned his head and kissed America on the cheek. America smiled. Canada smiled back, "There's the person I know."
The northerner turned around and tickled him lightly on the ribs which made America's smile widen, "You know, I'm glad to be stuck with you."
"Me too, most of the time." Canada replied, America poked him playfully in the side. They settled against each other until the water turned cold. Somehow it lifted America's spirit, knowing that someone always had his back, and vice versa. The greatest part was that he could see no reason for it to ever end. They would always find a hook for their coats on one another's walls.