[Hetalia] "A Feeling"
Title: "A Feeling"
Author: shuriken7
Claim: America
Character(s): America & England
Table/Prompt: Time/17. Moment @ hetachallenge, 1. More than A Feeling @ 12_stories
Word Count: 1318
Rating: PG
Summary: England knows that there is something different in America's eyes, and it frightens him. Revolutionary War Era.
A/N: Writing practice. I'm trying to get back into their historical voices.
He had felt it when America had looked at him as he greeted him at the docks. England was expecting that warm spark in those familiar blue eyes, but they had been cold and hard. They were not familiar in the slightest. These eyes belonged to someone else. They belonged to a nation that was coming into his own, not a colony that worshipped him. They frightened him. England even had to look up slightly to see into those eyes, America had outgrown him just the slightest bit.
That moment their eyes met, things changed.
He knew.
America was going to try to break away.
It broke his heart.
America smiled, but it looked false, "Welcome back, England. I'll escort you to where you will be staying, unless you'd like to just quarter with me, your soldiers seem fond of it." England winced at the dig, he had raised America better than making petty digs between them. He grabbed the boy by the arm. If America was going to snipe at him like a child he was going to treat him like a child. America immediately attempted to jerk his arm away, but England managed to keep a hold on him. America wouldn't be dumb enough to display his strength around the humans, at least he was good at that part. England marched him to his city residence, a small home not far from the bay. England knew it well. He shoved the boy inside and shut the door behind him. It looked as though the servants were not currently around.
"America."
"What?"
"Don't use that tone with me..."
"Or what, you'll attack me next. Treating me like I don't know how to think for myself isn't enough for you?"
"That is hardly..." he sighed, "We've had this argument."
"You make it sound as though you're exhausted by it."
"Exasperated more like, you foolish child." He saw America recoil visibly from that comment. Being called a child had become a zinger for America the last few times he had visited here. The hurt look lasted for only moments before America crossed his arms and tried to get back the haughty, although obviously shakeable, confidence with which he had met England at the docks. "I am going to quarter here as you put it, since it's obvious you need some supervision."
America got a little red in the face at that. "You're not doing this to Canada."
"Canada is hardly worth worried about, he has fewer people than live in this one city. He's not causing any problems."
America huffed and turned away from him now, muttering something about the other territories that England had recently gained. England chose to ignore him. Instead, he went to the kitchen to look for the tea kettle he had brought many years ago to this tiny little place. A place that was beginning to become quite profitable even for it's small status. It was missing. England sighed.
"America, why do you have to be so aggressive with my things." He could see them now, a smashed in iron piece near the fire.
"I heard you like aggressive people." America said snidely, his broad frame filling up the doorway. England looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for America to elaborate. "France was saying something like that. So was Spain."
England scowled, "You shouldn't listen to them, they delight in telling wicked stories about me. And you are much too young to understand the intricacies of international relationships."
"Always with the too young." America was frowning. It made England feel uneasy. He much preferred it when America was smiling, when he was happy it was always such an open expression. The frown made him closed off, inscrutable. England hated it.
"You are young."
"Only because you are keeping me this way." Dangerous words. England swallowed and stood straight. America wavered a little, but was standing firm.
"America, I think you should go to your room."
America stared at him for a few moments, a challenge in his eyes. Then he left the room and stomped his way down the hall.
England sighed and got out a pot to boil the water for tea. He needed to clear his mind and discover what was going to happen next with his unruly colony.
~*~
America leaned against his door as he shut it and squeezed his eyes shut. He was upset. He still couldn't figure out if he was more upset about England treating him as a child or the fact that he hadn't been able to say what he wanted to. He had defaulted back to defiant, he had wanted to work with him, but as soon as he saw him he took that route. He wanted to see England actually look at him, like he used to when he was small. He hadn't looked at him properly since he had started to grow larger. It was as if he was afraid. Had England been afraid of this? Of America starting to outgrow him?
America sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to outgrow England, he wanted to stay by his side... just not the way that England wanted him by his side. He wondered why that wasn't really possible. It had all changed in a moment when he realized that he had been thinking things about England, things that he didn't think he should be thinking. He had never thought them about anyone else. It was a pretty powerful thought, wondering what it would be like for England to acknowledge him. To truly see him. To want to be beside him in the same way America wanted to be beside him. Was such a thing even possible?
He could hear England wandering around the house, probably wondering what else had changed. He realized he hadn't closed his writing desk and the letter he had been trying to write to his mentor was still laying on top of it. A letter that revealed too much. His heart thundered, maybe England wouldn't notice it. It was covered in crossed out marks and ink blotches anyway when he had paused, trying to decide what to say. Of course England would notice it, he noticed everything... well, apparently not. He hadn't seen America's peoples discontentment coming... it was doubtful that he would have seen his feelings. Better to be safe than sorry he decided as he turned around and opened his door slowly, poking his head out. England was in the kitchen, cooking something, it was a pretty difficult smell to miss. He headed down the hallway to the study and headed towards the desk. He was just reaching out to grasp the paper when he heard a voice clearing behind him. His hand darted for the letter, crumpling it into his palm before he turned around and faced England.
"America, I don't think I deemed the punishment was over."
"I remembered I had forgotten to put the stopper in the ink bottle from when I was doing some work. I know that you dislike that."
England looked skeptical, but he let it slide, "Alright, well just go back to your room for a little while longer. I will call you for supper."
America nodded, trying to nonchalantly stuff the piece of paper down the back of his breeches as he exited the room. He edged past England who looked at him curiously as he passed. When he got back to his room he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out the sheet and looked at the sheet where the only legible words were:
I've been feeling things for you England... and I think I might love you...
He stuffed it under his mattress and waited for dinner to be called. Maybe his moment would come.
Author: shuriken7
Claim: America
Character(s): America & England
Table/Prompt: Time/17. Moment @ hetachallenge, 1. More than A Feeling @ 12_stories
Word Count: 1318
Rating: PG
Summary: England knows that there is something different in America's eyes, and it frightens him. Revolutionary War Era.
A/N: Writing practice. I'm trying to get back into their historical voices.
He had felt it when America had looked at him as he greeted him at the docks. England was expecting that warm spark in those familiar blue eyes, but they had been cold and hard. They were not familiar in the slightest. These eyes belonged to someone else. They belonged to a nation that was coming into his own, not a colony that worshipped him. They frightened him. England even had to look up slightly to see into those eyes, America had outgrown him just the slightest bit.
That moment their eyes met, things changed.
He knew.
America was going to try to break away.
It broke his heart.
America smiled, but it looked false, "Welcome back, England. I'll escort you to where you will be staying, unless you'd like to just quarter with me, your soldiers seem fond of it." England winced at the dig, he had raised America better than making petty digs between them. He grabbed the boy by the arm. If America was going to snipe at him like a child he was going to treat him like a child. America immediately attempted to jerk his arm away, but England managed to keep a hold on him. America wouldn't be dumb enough to display his strength around the humans, at least he was good at that part. England marched him to his city residence, a small home not far from the bay. England knew it well. He shoved the boy inside and shut the door behind him. It looked as though the servants were not currently around.
"America."
"What?"
"Don't use that tone with me..."
"Or what, you'll attack me next. Treating me like I don't know how to think for myself isn't enough for you?"
"That is hardly..." he sighed, "We've had this argument."
"You make it sound as though you're exhausted by it."
"Exasperated more like, you foolish child." He saw America recoil visibly from that comment. Being called a child had become a zinger for America the last few times he had visited here. The hurt look lasted for only moments before America crossed his arms and tried to get back the haughty, although obviously shakeable, confidence with which he had met England at the docks. "I am going to quarter here as you put it, since it's obvious you need some supervision."
America got a little red in the face at that. "You're not doing this to Canada."
"Canada is hardly worth worried about, he has fewer people than live in this one city. He's not causing any problems."
America huffed and turned away from him now, muttering something about the other territories that England had recently gained. England chose to ignore him. Instead, he went to the kitchen to look for the tea kettle he had brought many years ago to this tiny little place. A place that was beginning to become quite profitable even for it's small status. It was missing. England sighed.
"America, why do you have to be so aggressive with my things." He could see them now, a smashed in iron piece near the fire.
"I heard you like aggressive people." America said snidely, his broad frame filling up the doorway. England looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for America to elaborate. "France was saying something like that. So was Spain."
England scowled, "You shouldn't listen to them, they delight in telling wicked stories about me. And you are much too young to understand the intricacies of international relationships."
"Always with the too young." America was frowning. It made England feel uneasy. He much preferred it when America was smiling, when he was happy it was always such an open expression. The frown made him closed off, inscrutable. England hated it.
"You are young."
"Only because you are keeping me this way." Dangerous words. England swallowed and stood straight. America wavered a little, but was standing firm.
"America, I think you should go to your room."
America stared at him for a few moments, a challenge in his eyes. Then he left the room and stomped his way down the hall.
England sighed and got out a pot to boil the water for tea. He needed to clear his mind and discover what was going to happen next with his unruly colony.
~*~
America leaned against his door as he shut it and squeezed his eyes shut. He was upset. He still couldn't figure out if he was more upset about England treating him as a child or the fact that he hadn't been able to say what he wanted to. He had defaulted back to defiant, he had wanted to work with him, but as soon as he saw him he took that route. He wanted to see England actually look at him, like he used to when he was small. He hadn't looked at him properly since he had started to grow larger. It was as if he was afraid. Had England been afraid of this? Of America starting to outgrow him?
America sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to outgrow England, he wanted to stay by his side... just not the way that England wanted him by his side. He wondered why that wasn't really possible. It had all changed in a moment when he realized that he had been thinking things about England, things that he didn't think he should be thinking. He had never thought them about anyone else. It was a pretty powerful thought, wondering what it would be like for England to acknowledge him. To truly see him. To want to be beside him in the same way America wanted to be beside him. Was such a thing even possible?
He could hear England wandering around the house, probably wondering what else had changed. He realized he hadn't closed his writing desk and the letter he had been trying to write to his mentor was still laying on top of it. A letter that revealed too much. His heart thundered, maybe England wouldn't notice it. It was covered in crossed out marks and ink blotches anyway when he had paused, trying to decide what to say. Of course England would notice it, he noticed everything... well, apparently not. He hadn't seen America's peoples discontentment coming... it was doubtful that he would have seen his feelings. Better to be safe than sorry he decided as he turned around and opened his door slowly, poking his head out. England was in the kitchen, cooking something, it was a pretty difficult smell to miss. He headed down the hallway to the study and headed towards the desk. He was just reaching out to grasp the paper when he heard a voice clearing behind him. His hand darted for the letter, crumpling it into his palm before he turned around and faced England.
"America, I don't think I deemed the punishment was over."
"I remembered I had forgotten to put the stopper in the ink bottle from when I was doing some work. I know that you dislike that."
England looked skeptical, but he let it slide, "Alright, well just go back to your room for a little while longer. I will call you for supper."
America nodded, trying to nonchalantly stuff the piece of paper down the back of his breeches as he exited the room. He edged past England who looked at him curiously as he passed. When he got back to his room he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out the sheet and looked at the sheet where the only legible words were:
I've been feeling things for you England... and I think I might love you...
He stuffed it under his mattress and waited for dinner to be called. Maybe his moment would come.