drabble. hetalia: when days crawl slow (uk/us)
AAAAAH I MANAGED IT. IT'S 100 WORDS EXACTLY. /CELEBRATION
Siken, look what you made me write.
Summary: This is how Arthur copes. UKUS implied.
When Days Crawl Slow
Imagine
my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots
in the slatted light.
"snow and dirty rain" - Richard Siken
-
Between visits, Arthur misses Alfred with the kind of subtle, perpetual ache he does not bother to quantify. He can ignore it if he tries, bury it under the veritable paperwork-mountains accumulating on his desk, under sessions of Parliament, audiences with Her Majesty. He drinks myriad cups of tea, now an afternoon ritual-the veranda soft at the edges, striped by fading sunlight; spoon clinking against Wedgwood china; whisper of dissolving sugar.
Three months, Arthur reminds himself doggedly when the nights grow long and he starts to want Alfred's touch, Alfred's limbs sprawled, presumptuous, in his bed. He always comes back.
This is apparently what I write when I have nothing else to do.
Also, I am working on more of that sex pollen UKUS fill. Oh, and General Winter/Russia relationship fic with smut (yeah, you heard me right) for pyro_o. She inspired me. 8D; Aaaand I want to write more Canada/America in the near future. I AM HAVING FUN HERE. /whistles
Siken, look what you made me write.
Summary: This is how Arthur copes. UKUS implied.
When Days Crawl Slow
Imagine
my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots
in the slatted light.
"snow and dirty rain" - Richard Siken
-
Between visits, Arthur misses Alfred with the kind of subtle, perpetual ache he does not bother to quantify. He can ignore it if he tries, bury it under the veritable paperwork-mountains accumulating on his desk, under sessions of Parliament, audiences with Her Majesty. He drinks myriad cups of tea, now an afternoon ritual-the veranda soft at the edges, striped by fading sunlight; spoon clinking against Wedgwood china; whisper of dissolving sugar.
Three months, Arthur reminds himself doggedly when the nights grow long and he starts to want Alfred's touch, Alfred's limbs sprawled, presumptuous, in his bed. He always comes back.
This is apparently what I write when I have nothing else to do.
Also, I am working on more of that sex pollen UKUS fill. Oh, and General Winter/Russia relationship fic with smut (yeah, you heard me right) for pyro_o. She inspired me. 8D; Aaaand I want to write more Canada/America in the near future. I AM HAVING FUN HERE. /whistles