[Hetalia] "Jealous"
Title: "Jealous"
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: America/England
Prompt: 2. Jealousy @ 7snogs, Loneliness @ 10_hurt_comfort
Word Count: 1,162
Rating: PG
Summary: England is being his usual tsundere self and gets jealous of everyone else that is on the receiving end of America's affection.
A/N: England was being such a tsundere when I was writing this! I wanted to kick him!
Warnings: Slash. Hetalia deals with the personifications of nation-states. Some of the stories will be historical in nature and others will be dealing with them as just people.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
England sat at the picnic table fuming, not really interested in the hot dogs or burgers America had served everyone before going off to start a game of Ultimate Frisbee. There was a mantra going on in his head, keep your hands to yourself, keep your hands to yourself, keep your hands to yourself... The mantra was not for him, he was very determinedly directing those thoughts towards a particular individual who was now backslapping his teammates after another win. His frown deepened as the other nation in question decided to bear hug Canada.
"You are jealous of Canada, no?" asked France as he draped an arm over England's shoulder. The island nation hated these events, it was all too much bonding, too much... togetherness for him. He pushed the other's arm off of him. France laughed, "He looks so cute next to America after all." France knew that there was absolutely nothing going on between the two North Americans, but he couldn’t help but see if it would prickle England.
"Get off me Frog! And I am not jealous of anyone's relationships!" England replied, bristling.
France laughed, "In such denial, my friend. If you did not care you would not be glaring at him so."
"I am not glaring at him! And I am not your friend!"
"You know it's this cantankerous attitude that keeps you a lonely fool. You should be more open to l'amour!"
"I don't need any help from you."
"Fine, fine," France tried to see where England's scowl was pointed by leaning on his shoulder which earned him a jab to the ribs, "Ah, so you are glaring at America, then?"
"Yes, I mean no! Oh bloody hell!" He stormed off, French laughter echoing in his ears. He walked along the small path in the forest, trying to put as much distance between himself and everyone else. Out here it was quiet and he could get a handle on his thoughts.
He sat down on a log a little off the path and fumed. He was jealous of his former domain and said domain's relationship with a certain former colony. He was envious of the easy way America would throw his arm around his brother's shoulders and pull him into a hug. He was jealous of the way they would talk about everything. He was even envious of the arguments that often reduced one of them to tears. Yes, he was jealous of their bickering, even when he had his own share of fights with the blue-eyed grinning nation. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to their relationship, something that he would not get to experience with America. He shook his head, it was probably better that way. They were both young and powerful in their own ways. They had the longest border in the world connecting them. What would America want with an old man like him, anyhow? It made him feel lonely, and it was something he felt he thought about far too often.
He shook his head, he liked being lonely. He wasn't connected to anyone except his brothers. He told himself that he liked it that way. He knew he was lying when he said that.
He leaned back against the log, not sure what to do. He wondered how long it would take for someone to come looking for him. He wondered if anyone would even care too. He figured he should probably get up before he starts getting too depressed. Perhaps the picnic had beer somewhere.
England was just getting up the courage to deal with everyone again when he felt something slithering against his leg. He froze, he couldn't remember what America's venomous snakes looked like. At any rate, the creature was huge! He jumped up before he could remind himself to stay calm. He ran before he could remind himself he had faced larger snakes in Africa. He was just beginning to feel stupid over his reaction when he ran smack dab into someone.
"England?"
"America?" He stared at him, not expecting the young man at all.
"Dude, you see a ghost or something?" he laughed nervously. England rolled his eyes, he was almost tempted to say yes, just to mess with him, but he decided against it.
"One of your blasted snakes attacked me!" he yelled.
America immediately went on the defensive, "It's not like I told it to go attack you!"
"It's just... you... just... gah!" he said and stormed past him.
"Is this another one of those fights where we argue about one thing, but it's really about something else? You know I can't follow your British train of thought."
"That is rude and you are an idiot!"
"What did I do?"
"What didn't you do?!" He turned around and slammed a fist into the American’s chest. The younger man's eyes widened in surprise as he was knocked back. He caught England's hand the second time. "You are just so insufferable!"
"Seriously, what did I do this time?" England looked up into his completely bewildered face and sighed.
"It's not always about you." He looked away.
"Then it's about you?"
"Yes... I mean..." he flushed and America just looked confused. He came closer and peered into his face which was exactly what England didn't want him to do. He backed up but realized his back was up against the particularly rough bark of a tree. He felt the wood dig into his back as he tried not to focus on how close the other was and about how he smelled a little like smoke from the barbecue and that smell that was so unique to him and how blue his eyes were and... damn it all.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the American's before he could rethink his obviously, to his mind, stupid decision. He moved his lips slowly and was surprised when he realized the other was kissing him back, arms wrapping around his waist. He hooked his arms around America's neck and pulled him in even closer. When they pulled away it was America's turn to look embarrassed. He had a tinge of pink on his cheeks that made England want to kiss him so hard the flush would be full on red and hot and...
America laughed awkwardly, "And to think all these decades I thought you didn't like me."
"Shut up, idiot, don't make a fuss over it."
"Does this mean I can kiss you again if I want?" he asked with a hopeful look on his face that made England want to hit him and kiss the living daylights out of him.
"I suppose I would not protest..." England began, his words cut off as America kissed him again, and he began to wonder why he had been so damn jealous of nothing more than hugs and pats on the back.
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: America/England
Prompt: 2. Jealousy @ 7snogs, Loneliness @ 10_hurt_comfort
Word Count: 1,162
Rating: PG
Summary: England is being his usual tsundere self and gets jealous of everyone else that is on the receiving end of America's affection.
A/N: England was being such a tsundere when I was writing this! I wanted to kick him!
Warnings: Slash. Hetalia deals with the personifications of nation-states. Some of the stories will be historical in nature and others will be dealing with them as just people.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
England sat at the picnic table fuming, not really interested in the hot dogs or burgers America had served everyone before going off to start a game of Ultimate Frisbee. There was a mantra going on in his head, keep your hands to yourself, keep your hands to yourself, keep your hands to yourself... The mantra was not for him, he was very determinedly directing those thoughts towards a particular individual who was now backslapping his teammates after another win. His frown deepened as the other nation in question decided to bear hug Canada.
"You are jealous of Canada, no?" asked France as he draped an arm over England's shoulder. The island nation hated these events, it was all too much bonding, too much... togetherness for him. He pushed the other's arm off of him. France laughed, "He looks so cute next to America after all." France knew that there was absolutely nothing going on between the two North Americans, but he couldn’t help but see if it would prickle England.
"Get off me Frog! And I am not jealous of anyone's relationships!" England replied, bristling.
France laughed, "In such denial, my friend. If you did not care you would not be glaring at him so."
"I am not glaring at him! And I am not your friend!"
"You know it's this cantankerous attitude that keeps you a lonely fool. You should be more open to l'amour!"
"I don't need any help from you."
"Fine, fine," France tried to see where England's scowl was pointed by leaning on his shoulder which earned him a jab to the ribs, "Ah, so you are glaring at America, then?"
"Yes, I mean no! Oh bloody hell!" He stormed off, French laughter echoing in his ears. He walked along the small path in the forest, trying to put as much distance between himself and everyone else. Out here it was quiet and he could get a handle on his thoughts.
He sat down on a log a little off the path and fumed. He was jealous of his former domain and said domain's relationship with a certain former colony. He was envious of the easy way America would throw his arm around his brother's shoulders and pull him into a hug. He was jealous of the way they would talk about everything. He was even envious of the arguments that often reduced one of them to tears. Yes, he was jealous of their bickering, even when he had his own share of fights with the blue-eyed grinning nation. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to their relationship, something that he would not get to experience with America. He shook his head, it was probably better that way. They were both young and powerful in their own ways. They had the longest border in the world connecting them. What would America want with an old man like him, anyhow? It made him feel lonely, and it was something he felt he thought about far too often.
He shook his head, he liked being lonely. He wasn't connected to anyone except his brothers. He told himself that he liked it that way. He knew he was lying when he said that.
He leaned back against the log, not sure what to do. He wondered how long it would take for someone to come looking for him. He wondered if anyone would even care too. He figured he should probably get up before he starts getting too depressed. Perhaps the picnic had beer somewhere.
England was just getting up the courage to deal with everyone again when he felt something slithering against his leg. He froze, he couldn't remember what America's venomous snakes looked like. At any rate, the creature was huge! He jumped up before he could remind himself to stay calm. He ran before he could remind himself he had faced larger snakes in Africa. He was just beginning to feel stupid over his reaction when he ran smack dab into someone.
"England?"
"America?" He stared at him, not expecting the young man at all.
"Dude, you see a ghost or something?" he laughed nervously. England rolled his eyes, he was almost tempted to say yes, just to mess with him, but he decided against it.
"One of your blasted snakes attacked me!" he yelled.
America immediately went on the defensive, "It's not like I told it to go attack you!"
"It's just... you... just... gah!" he said and stormed past him.
"Is this another one of those fights where we argue about one thing, but it's really about something else? You know I can't follow your British train of thought."
"That is rude and you are an idiot!"
"What did I do?"
"What didn't you do?!" He turned around and slammed a fist into the American’s chest. The younger man's eyes widened in surprise as he was knocked back. He caught England's hand the second time. "You are just so insufferable!"
"Seriously, what did I do this time?" England looked up into his completely bewildered face and sighed.
"It's not always about you." He looked away.
"Then it's about you?"
"Yes... I mean..." he flushed and America just looked confused. He came closer and peered into his face which was exactly what England didn't want him to do. He backed up but realized his back was up against the particularly rough bark of a tree. He felt the wood dig into his back as he tried not to focus on how close the other was and about how he smelled a little like smoke from the barbecue and that smell that was so unique to him and how blue his eyes were and... damn it all.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the American's before he could rethink his obviously, to his mind, stupid decision. He moved his lips slowly and was surprised when he realized the other was kissing him back, arms wrapping around his waist. He hooked his arms around America's neck and pulled him in even closer. When they pulled away it was America's turn to look embarrassed. He had a tinge of pink on his cheeks that made England want to kiss him so hard the flush would be full on red and hot and...
America laughed awkwardly, "And to think all these decades I thought you didn't like me."
"Shut up, idiot, don't make a fuss over it."
"Does this mean I can kiss you again if I want?" he asked with a hopeful look on his face that made England want to hit him and kiss the living daylights out of him.
"I suppose I would not protest..." England began, his words cut off as America kissed him again, and he began to wonder why he had been so damn jealous of nothing more than hugs and pats on the back.