[Hetalia] "Confidence"
Title: "Confidence"
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: America/Ireland (OC)
Prompt: If I were... challenge, If you were a cowboy, I would trail you. @ 5_prompts
Words: 526
Rating: PG
A/N: This is kind of a missing scene from my fic "Beneath the Open Sky"
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
America’s western lands were so different from her own. Even in the height of summer when the grass was a green as it could be it had a different hue. The wind here did not smell of the ocean, but of frozen granite peaks many miles away in the Rocky Mountains. The crisp wind pulled at her red-brown braid and caused a few stray strands to dance in front of her eyes. She brushed the errant hairs away and continued to watch her quarry.
Ireland had been staying with America for several weeks following him around as he inspected his western lands and participated with various tasks his people were facing. It amazed her to see an Irishman toil in the field next to a German who would sometimes drink next to an Italian at the saloon at the end of a hard day. Beyond all the wonders of his lands and peoples, America himself was something else. Something about him had captured her, perhaps it was just the feelings the Irish immigrants had for him, but she hoped it was something in her own heart as well. Ireland was going to seek him out the next time he came to Europe, wondering what he would like like outside of his own lands. Would he be less or would he be more?
Ireland was even beginning to wonder what he looked like in the tame confines of his own urban society. Would he have the same confidence in a suit walking down a cobbled lane as he had toiling in a dusty corn field? Would he look as handsome in a carriage as he did on the back of his mustang?
They had traveled for several days to get where they were now. They were in a small town, having finally rounded up enough cattle to get them on a train to markets in the east. He had settled her in a small ranch house that he owned and each day he had been out here working to make sure none of the cattle were lost before they could be loaded on trains. Each day she had followed after him through the brush and grass so she could watch him. He was sight, in his broad brimmed hat and well-worn chaps. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing a slight sun burned. He looked so comfortable in the saddle. It had been taking up most of her self control not to divest him off his wonderful fitting cowboy attire at the end of the day. She had to constantly remind herself that this was not Europe. It was not appropriate to just take someone here in the New World.
She watched him until the sun began to dip low in the sky. She needed to hurry back so that he would not ask her where she had been, because she had a hard time lying to someone so honest, but the truth was too awkward. She headed into the small house and began to make dinner, hoping that before she had to leave she would find the courage to tell him how she felt.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: America/Ireland (OC)
Prompt: If I were... challenge, If you were a cowboy, I would trail you. @ 5_prompts
Words: 526
Rating: PG
A/N: This is kind of a missing scene from my fic "Beneath the Open Sky"
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
America’s western lands were so different from her own. Even in the height of summer when the grass was a green as it could be it had a different hue. The wind here did not smell of the ocean, but of frozen granite peaks many miles away in the Rocky Mountains. The crisp wind pulled at her red-brown braid and caused a few stray strands to dance in front of her eyes. She brushed the errant hairs away and continued to watch her quarry.
Ireland had been staying with America for several weeks following him around as he inspected his western lands and participated with various tasks his people were facing. It amazed her to see an Irishman toil in the field next to a German who would sometimes drink next to an Italian at the saloon at the end of a hard day. Beyond all the wonders of his lands and peoples, America himself was something else. Something about him had captured her, perhaps it was just the feelings the Irish immigrants had for him, but she hoped it was something in her own heart as well. Ireland was going to seek him out the next time he came to Europe, wondering what he would like like outside of his own lands. Would he be less or would he be more?
Ireland was even beginning to wonder what he looked like in the tame confines of his own urban society. Would he have the same confidence in a suit walking down a cobbled lane as he had toiling in a dusty corn field? Would he look as handsome in a carriage as he did on the back of his mustang?
They had traveled for several days to get where they were now. They were in a small town, having finally rounded up enough cattle to get them on a train to markets in the east. He had settled her in a small ranch house that he owned and each day he had been out here working to make sure none of the cattle were lost before they could be loaded on trains. Each day she had followed after him through the brush and grass so she could watch him. He was sight, in his broad brimmed hat and well-worn chaps. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing a slight sun burned. He looked so comfortable in the saddle. It had been taking up most of her self control not to divest him off his wonderful fitting cowboy attire at the end of the day. She had to constantly remind herself that this was not Europe. It was not appropriate to just take someone here in the New World.
She watched him until the sun began to dip low in the sky. She needed to hurry back so that he would not ask her where she had been, because she had a hard time lying to someone so honest, but the truth was too awkward. She headed into the small house and began to make dinner, hoping that before she had to leave she would find the courage to tell him how she felt.