[Secret Santa Fic & Art]
Title: I'll Take Care of You
Artist: chinquix
Recipient: purejabberwocky
Rating/warnings: G
Summary: Original prompt; England is deathly ill and America is trying to comfort him the best he can
Notes: Uh...it made sense in my head, I swear xD So, I sort of missed the whole idea of the prompt completely and stupidly went with what my then-hyperactive brain was telling me...it wasn't a good idea :I I hope you like it, anyway, and sorry it's not really what you asked for ^^; Also, I hate my scanner.
Title: -
Author: chinquix
Recipient purejabberwocky
Genre: Romance, humour?
Ratings/warnings: PG
Summary: Original prompt; America has a talk with England explaining just how much he loves him. I'd like this to reflect on America's "Hollywood persona," so any melodramatic or utterly romantic examples he lists would be very much loved.
Notes: My first time writing a kiss (it probably shows ^^;) Also, I know it shifts from country names to human names, but I was going with the whole 'only using human names when it's an emotional situation' thing.
England flicks through the pages in his hand, making sure he has everything. The UN meeting had been put on hold for the moment, and so the island nation was taking the opportunity to reorganise his notes for when the talks resumed in 20 minutes.
“It seems right now that all I’ve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.”
"I...what?" England turns around, eyes wide as he notes the sudden appearance of the man stood behind him, telling himself that he did not just hear what he thought he did. America grins, and the tiniest hint of shyness and vulnerability there in his eyes is more than enough to make the elder nation's heart quicken, but rather than acknowledge this he fixes a disapproving gaze upon the other country and says "Really, America, what nonsense are you spouting now?"
It seems that despite America's insecurity, he's just as determined and stubborn as ever, so ignores the criticism and continues with...well, whatever it is he's trying to do (England is not going to let himself hope, not yet).
The bespectacled blond tries again, and with an enviable amount of ease conjures another declaration. "We can't have the happiness of yesterday without the pain of today." Ignoring the blatant reference to the War of Independence, the United Kingdom absently notes that not only is America apparently quoting romantic movie lines at him, but this one in particular is in fact from a British film. He's not sure whether it's a good idea to point this out however, particularly as he's more concerned with the fact that the younger country has yet to burst out laughing and tell him what a stupid old man he is and that the whole situation is one huge wind up. He even glances around to check that some secret film crew isn't recording the whole thing. America, deflating somewhat due to the fact that England has yet to swoon into his arms, decides it's probably time to explain himself.
He takes a deep breath. He's been preparing for this moment for weeks, months even, finally deciding to put his plan into action at the sight of England, alone, clearing up his papers in the meeting room. So now all he has to do is declare his undying love for the Brit. Right. Piece of cake.
"Look," he begins, stepping closer. "I don't expect you to believe me, to just accept this right away, but...I need to tell you, because I think I might just shout it out for the whole world to hear if I keep it to myself any longer. I love you. I can safely say I've always loved you, right from the moment I first saw you back then, before I was even America, and...and I know I hurt you. I was so scared after that that you'd hate me, that I'd never be able to talk to you without seeing that pain in your eyes, that pain that I caused." He pauses for breath here, moving closer still until he and England are near enough that he could reach out and touch him. He hesitates, then gently takes the other blond's hands in his own. England flushes adorably, but doesn't pull away. America interprets the look in his emerald eyes as encouragement to continue. "Then, there were the World Wars, and I know it's a terrible thing to say but I can't help but think that they were some kind of disguised blessing, because it meant that we were at least Allies again, if not friends. Actually, I think it was seeing you after the Blitz that first made me realise that...well. That you meant more to me than anything." He raises his eyes, and notices with a jolt that England is crying. He strokes his thumb across the other's knuckles in an attempt to comfort him.
"...can you say that again, please?" England chokes out in a near whisper, but Alfred hears him, and he smiles.
"I love you, Arthur," he says, resting his forehead against England's.
"Love you too...Alfred," comes the soft reply. He feels fingers reaching up and cupping his cheek, then his chin is pulled down and lips are placed nervously against his own. For a second he feels a little put out as, after all, he was supposed to be the one initiating this whole relationship, but his annoyance doesn't last long because, hell, Arthur's kissing him.
After a while, America pulls back and gives a blinding grin, England smiling back at him, fond and slightly bewildered. "I never knew you were such a romantic," he says softly, and America laughs.
"I guess you can blame Hollywood." He contemplates something for a moment, then says with a smile "If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just..."
"Passes you by," England finishes for him, chuckling slightly. "Though so much for saying it 'right then'. You certainly took your bloody time." America flashes an apologetic grimace, nuzzling into the Brit's neck. England sighs, and there's a hint of a smirk in his voice when he says "But I think I can be tempted to forgive you."
Ten minutes later, the two are still completely absorbed in each other, until England grumbles something. "You do realise the meeting starts again in a few minutes...?" he asks.
"Frankly my dear," America winks, "I don't give a damn."
Artist: chinquix
Recipient: purejabberwocky
Rating/warnings: G
Summary: Original prompt; England is deathly ill and America is trying to comfort him the best he can
Notes: Uh...it made sense in my head, I swear xD So, I sort of missed the whole idea of the prompt completely and stupidly went with what my then-hyperactive brain was telling me...it wasn't a good idea :I I hope you like it, anyway, and sorry it's not really what you asked for ^^; Also, I hate my scanner.
Title: -
Author: chinquix
Recipient purejabberwocky
Genre: Romance, humour?
Ratings/warnings: PG
Summary: Original prompt; America has a talk with England explaining just how much he loves him. I'd like this to reflect on America's "Hollywood persona," so any melodramatic or utterly romantic examples he lists would be very much loved.
Notes: My first time writing a kiss (it probably shows ^^;) Also, I know it shifts from country names to human names, but I was going with the whole 'only using human names when it's an emotional situation' thing.
England flicks through the pages in his hand, making sure he has everything. The UN meeting had been put on hold for the moment, and so the island nation was taking the opportunity to reorganise his notes for when the talks resumed in 20 minutes.
“It seems right now that all I’ve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.”
"I...what?" England turns around, eyes wide as he notes the sudden appearance of the man stood behind him, telling himself that he did not just hear what he thought he did. America grins, and the tiniest hint of shyness and vulnerability there in his eyes is more than enough to make the elder nation's heart quicken, but rather than acknowledge this he fixes a disapproving gaze upon the other country and says "Really, America, what nonsense are you spouting now?"
It seems that despite America's insecurity, he's just as determined and stubborn as ever, so ignores the criticism and continues with...well, whatever it is he's trying to do (England is not going to let himself hope, not yet).
The bespectacled blond tries again, and with an enviable amount of ease conjures another declaration. "We can't have the happiness of yesterday without the pain of today." Ignoring the blatant reference to the War of Independence, the United Kingdom absently notes that not only is America apparently quoting romantic movie lines at him, but this one in particular is in fact from a British film. He's not sure whether it's a good idea to point this out however, particularly as he's more concerned with the fact that the younger country has yet to burst out laughing and tell him what a stupid old man he is and that the whole situation is one huge wind up. He even glances around to check that some secret film crew isn't recording the whole thing. America, deflating somewhat due to the fact that England has yet to swoon into his arms, decides it's probably time to explain himself.
He takes a deep breath. He's been preparing for this moment for weeks, months even, finally deciding to put his plan into action at the sight of England, alone, clearing up his papers in the meeting room. So now all he has to do is declare his undying love for the Brit. Right. Piece of cake.
"Look," he begins, stepping closer. "I don't expect you to believe me, to just accept this right away, but...I need to tell you, because I think I might just shout it out for the whole world to hear if I keep it to myself any longer. I love you. I can safely say I've always loved you, right from the moment I first saw you back then, before I was even America, and...and I know I hurt you. I was so scared after that that you'd hate me, that I'd never be able to talk to you without seeing that pain in your eyes, that pain that I caused." He pauses for breath here, moving closer still until he and England are near enough that he could reach out and touch him. He hesitates, then gently takes the other blond's hands in his own. England flushes adorably, but doesn't pull away. America interprets the look in his emerald eyes as encouragement to continue. "Then, there were the World Wars, and I know it's a terrible thing to say but I can't help but think that they were some kind of disguised blessing, because it meant that we were at least Allies again, if not friends. Actually, I think it was seeing you after the Blitz that first made me realise that...well. That you meant more to me than anything." He raises his eyes, and notices with a jolt that England is crying. He strokes his thumb across the other's knuckles in an attempt to comfort him.
"...can you say that again, please?" England chokes out in a near whisper, but Alfred hears him, and he smiles.
"I love you, Arthur," he says, resting his forehead against England's.
"Love you too...Alfred," comes the soft reply. He feels fingers reaching up and cupping his cheek, then his chin is pulled down and lips are placed nervously against his own. For a second he feels a little put out as, after all, he was supposed to be the one initiating this whole relationship, but his annoyance doesn't last long because, hell, Arthur's kissing him.
After a while, America pulls back and gives a blinding grin, England smiling back at him, fond and slightly bewildered. "I never knew you were such a romantic," he says softly, and America laughs.
"I guess you can blame Hollywood." He contemplates something for a moment, then says with a smile "If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just..."
"Passes you by," England finishes for him, chuckling slightly. "Though so much for saying it 'right then'. You certainly took your bloody time." America flashes an apologetic grimace, nuzzling into the Brit's neck. England sighs, and there's a hint of a smirk in his voice when he says "But I think I can be tempted to forgive you."
Ten minutes later, the two are still completely absorbed in each other, until England grumbles something. "You do realise the meeting starts again in a few minutes...?" he asks.
"Frankly my dear," America winks, "I don't give a damn."