[Hetalia] "Make Me Happy"
For the Secret Santa Exchange at usxuk.
~*~
TITLE: "Make Me Happy"
AUTHOR: shuriken7
RECIPIENT: teaismylife
GENRE: Romance, a little bit of angst, historical.
RATINGS/WARNINGS: PG
PROMPT: England has begun to wear America's jacket around. America struggles to find something of England's to wear too.
SUMMARY: Late 1940s. America invites England to spend some time at his ranch in order to have a break. America isn't really sure where they stand, but he does know that he isn't about to ask for his jacket back while England wants to wear it.
NOTES: I really hope you like it! And thank you to velted for reading it over for me! :)
Late 1940s
America stood on the tarmac, his jacket zipped up against the wind. His aviator sunglasses sat lightly on the bridge of his nose as he waited for the small plane to stop so that it's passengers could disembark. It rolled to a stop and the stairs were rolled up to it. A few passengers exited but none were the person he was waiting for. He waited as patiently as he could, rocking on his heels. Finally he emerged, suitcase in hand and made his way carefully down the steps. America bounded up to the bottom of the stairs to wrest the suitcase from him, despite protests.
"It's okay England, I got it. How was the flight?"
"I suppose it was alright... Thank you for inviting me." England replied, so quiet America almost didn't hear him. He still looked tired, America wondered if England would ever not looked tired again. That was why he had invited him here, he wanted him to rest. He walked him over to his car and tossed the suitcase in the back. England almost climbed into the driver's side before he remembered himself and walked to the right side of the vehicle. America climbed in the left and started it up. He increased his speed as he pulled onto the interstate.
"This is the new road system I was telling you about. Isn't it great?" America smiled. England nodded, but he didn't smile. America glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. England's eyes were drooping slightly. "Did you not rest on the flight?"
"I have a hard time sleeping in planes." England replied. America could understand that, they had both been shot out of them enough times only a few years ago.
"Think you could sleep in the car? You don't have to, but if you do before you know it we'll be there." America said, trying to think of something to say to remove that small frown that turned down the corners of England's mouth. England didn't say anything, but when America looked over a few minutes later, England's eyes were closed and his head was resting on the window. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest and America wondered if he was cold. He worked his way out of his bomber jacket and tried to arrange it one-handed over England's body. The other man nestled deeper down into it, and America felt a rush of protectiveness. He shook his head to clear it, he knew that feeling was dangerous to think too much about. There had been that moment... when they had been tired and grateful that the other wasn't hurt... and he had slipped. Told England how he'd felt and held him and then on V-E Day... He shook his head again, it wasn't smart to think too much on that either.
America hummed to himself as he drove down the highway, cracking his window slightly to feel some wind in his hair. He loved the long stretches of road, they were almost meditative to drive down. The open road banished most of those thoughts to the back of his mind until he'd look over and see England hugging onto his jacket in his sleep as if it were a lifeline.
When America turned off onto the dirt road out to his ranch the bumps in the road woke England up. America expected him to throw the jacket over the seat or say something about it, but he didn't. Without saying a word, England hooked his arms through the sleeves and held it tightly around him. America blushed and wasn't sure what he wanted to say.
"Alright, we're here!" he announced cheerfully, killing the engine and hopping out of the car to grab England's suitcase. England climbed out and headed up the front steps onto the wrap-around porch. He stood there observing the building. It was a one-story ranch house with a few outbuildings here and there. A barn was settled off in the distance and the small yard was fenced in. America was pretty proud of the place, he'd even made an effort to install indoor plumbing and electricity so that it would be more comfortable. He realized as England continued to stare out at the landscape that he'd never been here before.
"A lots changed since the last time you've come to visit me, huh?" America said, digging into his pocket for the keys to the building, "You've never really been out of the east, except for Oregon country right?" England nodded.
America pulled open the screen door with a creak, once he'd found the key. He got the door open with only a bit of messing with the lock. The interior was calm and country, one of the kindly old ranch wives from a neighboring property had decorated it for him. She had been by recently to tidy it up, and she had left a note saying she had added some fresh food to the refrigerator. America made a mental note to send her a thank you note and offer to help out with some of the work over there in exchange. He gave England a quick tour, dropping off the other man's suitcase into the spare bedroom.
"The porch is real nice if you want to sit out there while I make something for dinner." America suggested.
England gave him a small smile, "I think I will do that." America blushed and suddenly felt awkward, nervous at how that smile made his heart skip a beat. He hurried off into the kitchen and got to work. Unfortunately, he ended up cooking the chicken too long so it was a little tough, but he figured England wouldn't notice. He set the food up on the small kitchen table and then headed out the door to find England sitting in a rocking chair. "I could get used to this view." England said absentmindedly.
"Yeah, it's a nice one. I figured you'd like it." America smiled, "The food's done."
They sat down to a quiet meal. It wasn't until America was halfway through his mashed potatoes that he realized England was still wearing his jacket. He had rolled the sleeves up a little bit to keep them from hanging over his hands. The longing feeling welled up in America's chest again. He quickly shoveled some more food into his mouth to keep him from saying something embarrassing.
The evening was spent with America chatting, telling England about his home here and some of the things they could do while for fun while he was visiting. When the sun went down, England mentioned that he wanted to rest a bit early, to try and get used to the time difference. He wandered off with America's jacket leaving America beside the wood-burning stove.
"Good night, England."
"Good night, America."
America sat there for a little while longer, waiting for the wood to burn down to ashes. He headed for his bedroom and changed into his pajamas. He lay down on his bed, but less than fifteen minutes later he was pacing his room. Then, without thinking, he was poking his head into the guest bedroom. England was curled up under the blankets, America's jacket still wrapped around his shoulders. He thought about going over to him, but couldn't find any reason. He wandered back to his room and wrapping his arms around a pillow, fell to sleep.
As the days wore on, England became more and more relaxed. America even got a laugh out of him one day. Granted, it was at America's expense, but he didn't even really care. He hadn't heard England laugh since he was young, and maybe it was truly a sign that things were starting to change. That finally, they were getting to a place where they understood each other. America could feel the words welling up in his throat that he had whispered to England when he held him in the dark on a battlefield years and half a world away... but he was afraid to burst the bubble that they'd created. It was getting hard with each passing day, especially since every morning, throughout the day, and into the night. England was hanging onto his jacket. He wore it, he used it as a blanket, America even saw him holding it to his chest when he was taking a nap in the yard's hammock.
He decided that he wanted England to feel what he was feeling. Maybe if he could find something of his...
America stared into the closet, trying to decide what he wanted. England was napping in the hammock so hopefully he wouldn't come by anytime soon. America considered, it would need to be something decidedly England, so that everyone would know who's it was. He flipped through the shirts, many of them generic dress shirts until he stumbled upon a comfortable looking pull over sweater. The fabric was soft and it felt warm. England had been wearing it just the other day when he had been sitting in the rocker on the front porch, steaming cup of tea in hand. This was the one.
America pulled off his own shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He began to pull on England's shirt, he wasn't that much bigger than England, it would totally fit. Or so he wanted to believe. He managed to get it mostly on and realized he felt like he was being strangled. It was way too tight, and definitely didn't cover even his stomach. It looked ridiculous and he pouted at his reflection in the mirror. This one wouldn't do at all. He reached for the hem and began to try and pull it over his head.
Shoot.
He had gotten it about halfway off and was stuck. He struggled slightly to see if he could loosen the sweater at all. He heard a few stitches pop. He froze, he was not about to ruin one of England's favorite shirts! That would be the complete opposite of what he wanted to do! America was in a fix and he tried to think of a way to get out of it before England woke up from his nap. Maybe just rip the shirt? Out of the question. He kept running scenarios through his head, certain he had to get out of this before England got back.
"America? What are you doing?" America almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of England's voice. He must have been so distracted he hadn't even heard him come in.
"Ummm, nothing." He sensed that England was really close to him now, and he was burning with embarrassment.
"Hold still, I'll help you get out." England took hold of the shirt from him and with a few hard pulls it came off. England looked at the piece of clothing in his hands as America watched him self-consciously crossing his arms across his bare chest. "What were you doing with my jumper?"
"Trying it on..."
"Why?"
America could feel his cheeks heat up even further. He walked to the edge of the bed and flopped down on it, taking a pillow to cover his face. He mumbled something into the fabric.
"I can't understand you when you don't speak properly."
America held the pillow to his chest, uncovering his mouth. "I wanted to wear something of yours..."
England sat down beside him, "What brought this on?"
"Well... you've been wearing my jacket all week... It makes me really happy. And I wanted to make you happy too. And since seeing you in mine makes me happy... And I wanted to know if what you said that time was true and that stuff that happened when you came to my apartment on V-E Day... I mean, I thought you were okay with it, but then you never said anything and you were tired and..." He could feel another blush rising and he through the pillow over his face. Heroes did not blush! Not to mention the reason sounded really weird now that he was saying it aloud! Why did he always come up with weird ideas when England was around! He could hear England chuckling underneath his breath. America felt a tug on the pillow and he held onto it tighter. He didn't need to see England laughing at him now!
"America, let me look at you." Another tug on the pillow. America released it and expected to see England with that scowl on his face that he wore when he thought America was being a complete idiot. But it wasn't there. England was smiling at him. "I've been thinking about that night too... and what I said. Things have changed between us haven't they?"
America nodded, "Yeah... Does that bother you?"
"No." England replied before leaning over him and kissing him softly. America was too surprised to kiss him back. England pulled away, but stayed close, leaning on America's chest for a moment. England watched his face, America could tell he was considering something. "Stay here, I'll get something for you."
England climbed off the bed and went over to the dresser. He seemed to appraise the items that were sitting on the top for a moment before coming back. He leaned back on the bed beside America, picking up America's hand. England hooked a watch around his wrist. America examined it, it was a rather handsome watch and he'd seen it on England's wrist very often. It had gotten banged up, even had a small crack in the glass, but it was something that was unquestionably England's.
"It would make me happy if I saw you wear that." England said. America turned his head to look at him, but England was looking away, but America could see the blush on his cheeks. America rolled onto his side and pulled England into his arms.
"I like it a lot." he said, tucking his face into England's shoulder, burying his face in the ruff of his own jacket, to muffle his next words. He wanted to say them, but he wasn't sure if he wanted England to hear them, "But I like you more."
England didn't move, and America wasn't willing to let go. America just wanted him close, breathing in his scent that was beginning to replace his own on the jacket. England was quiet, thinking about something. America held him even as shadows began to stretch across the room. Finally, England turned around in his arms. He pulled America's glasses off his face and lay them out of the way. He brushed his fingers along America's cheek before leaning close to brush their lips together. It was tentative and shy, different than the kisses they had shared but never discussed.
America kissed him back, pressing closer, eager for more. England kissed him back for a moment, but then pulled away, putting his fingers between their lips. "I think now might be the time to discuss exactly what "The Special Relationship" is going to mean."
"It means you can keep wearing my jacket for now." America teased.
England rolled his eyes, "And it means you can wear my watch. But I mean beyond that."
"If I agree to this discussion can I kiss you?"
England chuckled at that, "We'll see how it goes."
~*~
TITLE: "Make Me Happy"
AUTHOR: shuriken7
RECIPIENT: teaismylife
GENRE: Romance, a little bit of angst, historical.
RATINGS/WARNINGS: PG
PROMPT: England has begun to wear America's jacket around. America struggles to find something of England's to wear too.
SUMMARY: Late 1940s. America invites England to spend some time at his ranch in order to have a break. America isn't really sure where they stand, but he does know that he isn't about to ask for his jacket back while England wants to wear it.
NOTES: I really hope you like it! And thank you to velted for reading it over for me! :)
Late 1940s
America stood on the tarmac, his jacket zipped up against the wind. His aviator sunglasses sat lightly on the bridge of his nose as he waited for the small plane to stop so that it's passengers could disembark. It rolled to a stop and the stairs were rolled up to it. A few passengers exited but none were the person he was waiting for. He waited as patiently as he could, rocking on his heels. Finally he emerged, suitcase in hand and made his way carefully down the steps. America bounded up to the bottom of the stairs to wrest the suitcase from him, despite protests.
"It's okay England, I got it. How was the flight?"
"I suppose it was alright... Thank you for inviting me." England replied, so quiet America almost didn't hear him. He still looked tired, America wondered if England would ever not looked tired again. That was why he had invited him here, he wanted him to rest. He walked him over to his car and tossed the suitcase in the back. England almost climbed into the driver's side before he remembered himself and walked to the right side of the vehicle. America climbed in the left and started it up. He increased his speed as he pulled onto the interstate.
"This is the new road system I was telling you about. Isn't it great?" America smiled. England nodded, but he didn't smile. America glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. England's eyes were drooping slightly. "Did you not rest on the flight?"
"I have a hard time sleeping in planes." England replied. America could understand that, they had both been shot out of them enough times only a few years ago.
"Think you could sleep in the car? You don't have to, but if you do before you know it we'll be there." America said, trying to think of something to say to remove that small frown that turned down the corners of England's mouth. England didn't say anything, but when America looked over a few minutes later, England's eyes were closed and his head was resting on the window. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest and America wondered if he was cold. He worked his way out of his bomber jacket and tried to arrange it one-handed over England's body. The other man nestled deeper down into it, and America felt a rush of protectiveness. He shook his head to clear it, he knew that feeling was dangerous to think too much about. There had been that moment... when they had been tired and grateful that the other wasn't hurt... and he had slipped. Told England how he'd felt and held him and then on V-E Day... He shook his head again, it wasn't smart to think too much on that either.
America hummed to himself as he drove down the highway, cracking his window slightly to feel some wind in his hair. He loved the long stretches of road, they were almost meditative to drive down. The open road banished most of those thoughts to the back of his mind until he'd look over and see England hugging onto his jacket in his sleep as if it were a lifeline.
When America turned off onto the dirt road out to his ranch the bumps in the road woke England up. America expected him to throw the jacket over the seat or say something about it, but he didn't. Without saying a word, England hooked his arms through the sleeves and held it tightly around him. America blushed and wasn't sure what he wanted to say.
"Alright, we're here!" he announced cheerfully, killing the engine and hopping out of the car to grab England's suitcase. England climbed out and headed up the front steps onto the wrap-around porch. He stood there observing the building. It was a one-story ranch house with a few outbuildings here and there. A barn was settled off in the distance and the small yard was fenced in. America was pretty proud of the place, he'd even made an effort to install indoor plumbing and electricity so that it would be more comfortable. He realized as England continued to stare out at the landscape that he'd never been here before.
"A lots changed since the last time you've come to visit me, huh?" America said, digging into his pocket for the keys to the building, "You've never really been out of the east, except for Oregon country right?" England nodded.
America pulled open the screen door with a creak, once he'd found the key. He got the door open with only a bit of messing with the lock. The interior was calm and country, one of the kindly old ranch wives from a neighboring property had decorated it for him. She had been by recently to tidy it up, and she had left a note saying she had added some fresh food to the refrigerator. America made a mental note to send her a thank you note and offer to help out with some of the work over there in exchange. He gave England a quick tour, dropping off the other man's suitcase into the spare bedroom.
"The porch is real nice if you want to sit out there while I make something for dinner." America suggested.
England gave him a small smile, "I think I will do that." America blushed and suddenly felt awkward, nervous at how that smile made his heart skip a beat. He hurried off into the kitchen and got to work. Unfortunately, he ended up cooking the chicken too long so it was a little tough, but he figured England wouldn't notice. He set the food up on the small kitchen table and then headed out the door to find England sitting in a rocking chair. "I could get used to this view." England said absentmindedly.
"Yeah, it's a nice one. I figured you'd like it." America smiled, "The food's done."
They sat down to a quiet meal. It wasn't until America was halfway through his mashed potatoes that he realized England was still wearing his jacket. He had rolled the sleeves up a little bit to keep them from hanging over his hands. The longing feeling welled up in America's chest again. He quickly shoveled some more food into his mouth to keep him from saying something embarrassing.
The evening was spent with America chatting, telling England about his home here and some of the things they could do while for fun while he was visiting. When the sun went down, England mentioned that he wanted to rest a bit early, to try and get used to the time difference. He wandered off with America's jacket leaving America beside the wood-burning stove.
"Good night, England."
"Good night, America."
America sat there for a little while longer, waiting for the wood to burn down to ashes. He headed for his bedroom and changed into his pajamas. He lay down on his bed, but less than fifteen minutes later he was pacing his room. Then, without thinking, he was poking his head into the guest bedroom. England was curled up under the blankets, America's jacket still wrapped around his shoulders. He thought about going over to him, but couldn't find any reason. He wandered back to his room and wrapping his arms around a pillow, fell to sleep.
As the days wore on, England became more and more relaxed. America even got a laugh out of him one day. Granted, it was at America's expense, but he didn't even really care. He hadn't heard England laugh since he was young, and maybe it was truly a sign that things were starting to change. That finally, they were getting to a place where they understood each other. America could feel the words welling up in his throat that he had whispered to England when he held him in the dark on a battlefield years and half a world away... but he was afraid to burst the bubble that they'd created. It was getting hard with each passing day, especially since every morning, throughout the day, and into the night. England was hanging onto his jacket. He wore it, he used it as a blanket, America even saw him holding it to his chest when he was taking a nap in the yard's hammock.
He decided that he wanted England to feel what he was feeling. Maybe if he could find something of his...
America stared into the closet, trying to decide what he wanted. England was napping in the hammock so hopefully he wouldn't come by anytime soon. America considered, it would need to be something decidedly England, so that everyone would know who's it was. He flipped through the shirts, many of them generic dress shirts until he stumbled upon a comfortable looking pull over sweater. The fabric was soft and it felt warm. England had been wearing it just the other day when he had been sitting in the rocker on the front porch, steaming cup of tea in hand. This was the one.
America pulled off his own shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He began to pull on England's shirt, he wasn't that much bigger than England, it would totally fit. Or so he wanted to believe. He managed to get it mostly on and realized he felt like he was being strangled. It was way too tight, and definitely didn't cover even his stomach. It looked ridiculous and he pouted at his reflection in the mirror. This one wouldn't do at all. He reached for the hem and began to try and pull it over his head.
Shoot.
He had gotten it about halfway off and was stuck. He struggled slightly to see if he could loosen the sweater at all. He heard a few stitches pop. He froze, he was not about to ruin one of England's favorite shirts! That would be the complete opposite of what he wanted to do! America was in a fix and he tried to think of a way to get out of it before England woke up from his nap. Maybe just rip the shirt? Out of the question. He kept running scenarios through his head, certain he had to get out of this before England got back.
"America? What are you doing?" America almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of England's voice. He must have been so distracted he hadn't even heard him come in.
"Ummm, nothing." He sensed that England was really close to him now, and he was burning with embarrassment.
"Hold still, I'll help you get out." England took hold of the shirt from him and with a few hard pulls it came off. England looked at the piece of clothing in his hands as America watched him self-consciously crossing his arms across his bare chest. "What were you doing with my jumper?"
"Trying it on..."
"Why?"
America could feel his cheeks heat up even further. He walked to the edge of the bed and flopped down on it, taking a pillow to cover his face. He mumbled something into the fabric.
"I can't understand you when you don't speak properly."
America held the pillow to his chest, uncovering his mouth. "I wanted to wear something of yours..."
England sat down beside him, "What brought this on?"
"Well... you've been wearing my jacket all week... It makes me really happy. And I wanted to make you happy too. And since seeing you in mine makes me happy... And I wanted to know if what you said that time was true and that stuff that happened when you came to my apartment on V-E Day... I mean, I thought you were okay with it, but then you never said anything and you were tired and..." He could feel another blush rising and he through the pillow over his face. Heroes did not blush! Not to mention the reason sounded really weird now that he was saying it aloud! Why did he always come up with weird ideas when England was around! He could hear England chuckling underneath his breath. America felt a tug on the pillow and he held onto it tighter. He didn't need to see England laughing at him now!
"America, let me look at you." Another tug on the pillow. America released it and expected to see England with that scowl on his face that he wore when he thought America was being a complete idiot. But it wasn't there. England was smiling at him. "I've been thinking about that night too... and what I said. Things have changed between us haven't they?"
America nodded, "Yeah... Does that bother you?"
"No." England replied before leaning over him and kissing him softly. America was too surprised to kiss him back. England pulled away, but stayed close, leaning on America's chest for a moment. England watched his face, America could tell he was considering something. "Stay here, I'll get something for you."
England climbed off the bed and went over to the dresser. He seemed to appraise the items that were sitting on the top for a moment before coming back. He leaned back on the bed beside America, picking up America's hand. England hooked a watch around his wrist. America examined it, it was a rather handsome watch and he'd seen it on England's wrist very often. It had gotten banged up, even had a small crack in the glass, but it was something that was unquestionably England's.
"It would make me happy if I saw you wear that." England said. America turned his head to look at him, but England was looking away, but America could see the blush on his cheeks. America rolled onto his side and pulled England into his arms.
"I like it a lot." he said, tucking his face into England's shoulder, burying his face in the ruff of his own jacket, to muffle his next words. He wanted to say them, but he wasn't sure if he wanted England to hear them, "But I like you more."
England didn't move, and America wasn't willing to let go. America just wanted him close, breathing in his scent that was beginning to replace his own on the jacket. England was quiet, thinking about something. America held him even as shadows began to stretch across the room. Finally, England turned around in his arms. He pulled America's glasses off his face and lay them out of the way. He brushed his fingers along America's cheek before leaning close to brush their lips together. It was tentative and shy, different than the kisses they had shared but never discussed.
America kissed him back, pressing closer, eager for more. England kissed him back for a moment, but then pulled away, putting his fingers between their lips. "I think now might be the time to discuss exactly what "The Special Relationship" is going to mean."
"It means you can keep wearing my jacket for now." America teased.
England rolled his eyes, "And it means you can wear my watch. But I mean beyond that."
"If I agree to this discussion can I kiss you?"
England chuckled at that, "We'll see how it goes."