Initiatives
Title: Initiatives
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Word Count: 1,046
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America/England
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: England has never been the one to take the first step.
England has never been the one to take them. Initiatives, that is. Perhaps he had been at some point in the past. But not now, and certainly not in his relationship with America.
He didn't think it was very fair. To both America and himself. Because the American was the direct opposite of just that. He was always proactive, wanting to be the first just for the heck of it or for some other unexplainable reasons England didn't know. It was safe to say that America would pick the white piece in chess, and he the black. America liked to give surprises, and England liked to evaluate and counter.
He stared at America's face as he slept and quietly wondered to himself how they managed to stay so long together. Or how they even got together at all.
It was America who confessed first. The first date, first kiss, first-... time... had all been him. No, it wasn't very fair.Good.
Carefully, he took the simple silver band from the box. He reached out for America's left arm and delicately pulled it up so he could work the ring into his finger at a comfortable angle. He picked America's ring finger and held it gently between his fingertips, eyes darting to America every now and then to make sure that he was still asleep.
He was, and England never really noticed just how long and dark his eyelashes were.
No, no. He had to focus on the task on hand. Right.
He swiftly slipped the ring on before he could second-guess himself. It was not like he was unsure whether it was the time or not, he was just afraid. How would America react to this?
Well, maybe he was not that certain that this might be the right time.
But it was too late to remove the ring from America's finger now, right?
Right.
His hand retreated back to under his pillow, where it held America's answer to his eventual question. He placed the box under America's pillow and retreated back into his covers, his eyes not leaving his face.
The only thing left to his plan was the wait.
Now if only he could fall asleep.
England continued to stare at America's face for a good few minutes before he finally gave up with a sigh of defeat.
It was going to be a sleepless night, wasn't it?
His eyes flickered from America's sleeping face to the clock that stood on the bedside table. It was 3.48AM, exactly thirty-four minutes after their love-making session. He blushed at the memory and snuggled deeper under the blanket, embarrassed. Silly really, since America isn't even up to tease him about it. In any case, he hope the time passes by soon if he was going to stay awake all night like this. Hopefully, America wakes up at around seven in the morning, although really, who was he kidding?
Gradually, England submitted to the fact that he would have to wait for hours before America would actually wake up. He watched America as he slept. His breaths were slow and deep, the breaths strong enough for England to feel it brush over his own cheeks. He squinted and could make out, under the moonlight, the mark on either sides of the bridge of his nose from wearing his spectacles too much. He smiled fondly before roving his eyes over to see if there were other features on America that he hadn't noticed before.
There was the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks he knew was there. It was probably from staying out in the sun for too long, since he didn't remember America having them when he was little. He smiled, making a mental note to himself to take a good look at them when the morning light shines in. He thought it matched the American quite well and looked rather endearing on him.
He rested his hand on America's cheek, gently digging the pad of his thumb into the soft flesh. It was a surprisingly nice feeling and he found himself repeating the action, over and over, and grinned in amusement when America's eyebrows came together in a soft frown and his lips tilted down at the sides into a bit of a pout but finally remembered himself and pulled away. Sighing softly, he tried to search for something to do before his eyes landed on America's eyelashes and, as embarrassing as this is, he began counting them.
One, two, three, four, five, six... Darn, he missed one back there, and oh, how many was he on again?
Groaning softly in frustration and eyebrows knitted in determination, he began counting the number of eyelashes on his left eye again.
England awoke to something very warm, moist and familiar on his lips. He groaned and turned away, eyes still shut. It was only when he heard a chuckle that resonated warmth through his chest did he open his eyes.
“Mornin', England.”
“... 'merica...?” he murmured, still very much hazy from the sleep.
“Who else would it be on your bed? Hm? Tell me.” America asked, more teasingly rather than inquisitively. England groaned once more and turned his whole body, away from his lover, not quite in the mood to entertain such questions this early in the morning. America merely laughed, scooted so his chest was flush against England's back, wrapped his arms around his body and took both his hands in his hands.
For a moment or two, there was just peaceful silence, the sounds of their breathing together before America broke it with another question.
“Don't you have something to say?”
“What?”
“Oh, I don't know...” A pause. “Something along the lines of 'will you marry me' or 'will you spend the rest of your life with me' maybe?”
It took a few seconds before America's words hit him and his eyes widened. He turned his head to face America in a panic, who was looking at him with such a soft smile.
“I--...” England stuttered, suddenly at a loss of words although he had been prepared for this. Or should be.
America leant in close, threaded his fingers through his and he could barely hear the click the two rings made as America whispered:
“Yes.”
Author's Note: Sup. It has been about a year and a half since I've written anything for Hetalia, or actually, anything at all. Aha. I haven't been involved in the fandom for a while now, and I don't think I will be again anytime soon. So I guess this will be the last fanfiction I'd be contributing to the fandom as sort of a closure (and as a warm-up since I've been wanting to write recently, but for South Park opps). So yeah, I'd like to say thank you and sorry to all the people I've met and lost through this fandom. But it's time for me to move on and dedicate my life to South Park LOL. Don't get me wrong, I still like Hetalia, just not as much as I used to.
Anyway yeah, I won't be using this name anymore for my future writings, so do feel free to remove me from your lists! And I'd also like to apologise for not continuing the chaptered fic I started. I'm awful guilty about that, and trust me, I know how it feels. But I really can't bring myself to pick it up when I've lost all interest.
Once again, a big thanks to all you fantastic people. It has been a wonderful experience! :D
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Word Count: 1,046
Character(s)/Pairing(s): America/England
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: England has never been the one to take the first step.
England has never been the one to take them. Initiatives, that is. Perhaps he had been at some point in the past. But not now, and certainly not in his relationship with America.
He didn't think it was very fair. To both America and himself. Because the American was the direct opposite of just that. He was always proactive, wanting to be the first just for the heck of it or for some other unexplainable reasons England didn't know. It was safe to say that America would pick the white piece in chess, and he the black. America liked to give surprises, and England liked to evaluate and counter.
He stared at America's face as he slept and quietly wondered to himself how they managed to stay so long together. Or how they even got together at all.
It was America who confessed first. The first date, first kiss, first-... time... had all been him. No, it wasn't very fair.Good.
Carefully, he took the simple silver band from the box. He reached out for America's left arm and delicately pulled it up so he could work the ring into his finger at a comfortable angle. He picked America's ring finger and held it gently between his fingertips, eyes darting to America every now and then to make sure that he was still asleep.
He was, and England never really noticed just how long and dark his eyelashes were.
No, no. He had to focus on the task on hand. Right.
He swiftly slipped the ring on before he could second-guess himself. It was not like he was unsure whether it was the time or not, he was just afraid. How would America react to this?
Well, maybe he was not that certain that this might be the right time.
But it was too late to remove the ring from America's finger now, right?
Right.
His hand retreated back to under his pillow, where it held America's answer to his eventual question. He placed the box under America's pillow and retreated back into his covers, his eyes not leaving his face.
The only thing left to his plan was the wait.
Now if only he could fall asleep.
England continued to stare at America's face for a good few minutes before he finally gave up with a sigh of defeat.
It was going to be a sleepless night, wasn't it?
His eyes flickered from America's sleeping face to the clock that stood on the bedside table. It was 3.48AM, exactly thirty-four minutes after their love-making session. He blushed at the memory and snuggled deeper under the blanket, embarrassed. Silly really, since America isn't even up to tease him about it. In any case, he hope the time passes by soon if he was going to stay awake all night like this. Hopefully, America wakes up at around seven in the morning, although really, who was he kidding?
Gradually, England submitted to the fact that he would have to wait for hours before America would actually wake up. He watched America as he slept. His breaths were slow and deep, the breaths strong enough for England to feel it brush over his own cheeks. He squinted and could make out, under the moonlight, the mark on either sides of the bridge of his nose from wearing his spectacles too much. He smiled fondly before roving his eyes over to see if there were other features on America that he hadn't noticed before.
There was the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks he knew was there. It was probably from staying out in the sun for too long, since he didn't remember America having them when he was little. He smiled, making a mental note to himself to take a good look at them when the morning light shines in. He thought it matched the American quite well and looked rather endearing on him.
He rested his hand on America's cheek, gently digging the pad of his thumb into the soft flesh. It was a surprisingly nice feeling and he found himself repeating the action, over and over, and grinned in amusement when America's eyebrows came together in a soft frown and his lips tilted down at the sides into a bit of a pout but finally remembered himself and pulled away. Sighing softly, he tried to search for something to do before his eyes landed on America's eyelashes and, as embarrassing as this is, he began counting them.
One, two, three, four, five, six... Darn, he missed one back there, and oh, how many was he on again?
Groaning softly in frustration and eyebrows knitted in determination, he began counting the number of eyelashes on his left eye again.
England awoke to something very warm, moist and familiar on his lips. He groaned and turned away, eyes still shut. It was only when he heard a chuckle that resonated warmth through his chest did he open his eyes.
“Mornin', England.”
“... 'merica...?” he murmured, still very much hazy from the sleep.
“Who else would it be on your bed? Hm? Tell me.” America asked, more teasingly rather than inquisitively. England groaned once more and turned his whole body, away from his lover, not quite in the mood to entertain such questions this early in the morning. America merely laughed, scooted so his chest was flush against England's back, wrapped his arms around his body and took both his hands in his hands.
For a moment or two, there was just peaceful silence, the sounds of their breathing together before America broke it with another question.
“Don't you have something to say?”
“What?”
“Oh, I don't know...” A pause. “Something along the lines of 'will you marry me' or 'will you spend the rest of your life with me' maybe?”
It took a few seconds before America's words hit him and his eyes widened. He turned his head to face America in a panic, who was looking at him with such a soft smile.
“I--...” England stuttered, suddenly at a loss of words although he had been prepared for this. Or should be.
America leant in close, threaded his fingers through his and he could barely hear the click the two rings made as America whispered:
“Yes.”
Author's Note: Sup. It has been about a year and a half since I've written anything for Hetalia, or actually, anything at all. Aha. I haven't been involved in the fandom for a while now, and I don't think I will be again anytime soon. So I guess this will be the last fanfiction I'd be contributing to the fandom as sort of a closure (and as a warm-up since I've been wanting to write recently, but for South Park opps). So yeah, I'd like to say thank you and sorry to all the people I've met and lost through this fandom. But it's time for me to move on and dedicate my life to South Park LOL. Don't get me wrong, I still like Hetalia, just not as much as I used to.
Anyway yeah, I won't be using this name anymore for my future writings, so do feel free to remove me from your lists! And I'd also like to apologise for not continuing the chaptered fic I started. I'm awful guilty about that, and trust me, I know how it feels. But I really can't bring myself to pick it up when I've lost all interest.
Once again, a big thanks to all you fantastic people. It has been a wonderful experience! :D