Author: hoshiko2kokoro PM
England wishes that he could have something just as grandeur with the one he loves, but he knows it can never be. Still, one can dream.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - America & England/Britain - Words: 3,883 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 94 - Follows: 4 - Published: 04-29-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6949935
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The party was almost inescapable, and yet, England managed to find a room where there was no one dancing or mingling or celebrating the happy occasion. And while he was all for having a good time, the weary nation needed a moment. He was always on such airs and had to uphold such an image of himself, being the country and all, but at such an occasion as this, he needed a moment to be human.
He excused the few servants and guards in the room, asking for time alone. Once they had vacated the room, England felt his chest swell with an immense amount of emotion and he thought he might surely choke. Instead, he coughed once, twice, before clenching his fists and waiting for his eyes to fill with tears.
There was a moment where the music invaded the still room again and then the sound of the door shut it all out once more. England heard footsteps from behind stop just short of him, but he didn't want to turn around. He feared that he'd snap and tell whomever had destroyed his alone time to politely go the fuck away.
It was America. Not a good idea to yell at the man he had personally invited. While the royal family hadn't invited President Obama or President Sarkozy of France, England himself had extended a personal, non-negotiable invite to two of his closest friends. So it would be in bad taste to start a squabble.
Instead, he turned with a huff and stared at America. The other nation had come in a modest tuxedo with coattails, but no top hat. He claimed that was way overdoing it. Still, he looked extremely handsome, especially with that single American flag pin on his collar just above his small red rose. The younger man had even done up his hair a little bit.
"I'd like a moment alone," England replied through practiced forced patience.
"The party getting to be a little too much for you?" America asked. He put his hands into his pockets, offering a small smile. He was missing England's point, so the man tried again.
"Yes. And now, a moment, if you will?"
America nodded and stepped forward. He enveloped England gently, pulling the man's head to rest on his shoulder. England sighed, irritated by America's lack of understanding, but found, again, he couldn't yell at him. Instead, he closed his eyes as he felt America's larger hands rubbing up and down his back; a very comforting gesture. And it was then that England felt something slip away, something heavy that had been on his shoulders for the past year.
He sighed again, only this time, it wasn't of anger or frustration. It was him relaxing his entire self into the bigger man. America held him tighter and rested his cheek on England's head, still rubbing his back. It took a moment, but then England began to shake. He sniffled once and a small gasp escaped his lips. For all the times America was oblivious to the situation, sometimes the man had a knack of knowing what someone needed the most before they even realized it themselves.
"It's okay," America whispered, his voice soft. "I miss her too."
England grabbed at America's back, clinging as he cried harder. It was nice to be alone where he didn't feel an obligation to anyone. Instead, he cried in front of the only man he'd ever shown his tears to. Not even his own brothers had seen him cry when young. So it was with great relief that he released himself on America's shoulder and chest.
After a time, England pulled back enough and wiped at his face. "That's…not the only reason I'm crying."
America caressed England's face, wiping away any tears that might stain his pale cheeks. "Oh? What else is wrong? Is it all that negativity again, because I keep telling you to stop listening to people like that."
England let out a laugh, ducking his head, before he rested it on America's chest again. "No… So many people say this is a fairytale wedding. It's their dream to have a wedding like this."
His face a furious red, England somehow managed to pull the words from his head to his mouth. "It's…also mine… I know…I'll never get a wedding… Especially not one like this…"
America was silent a moment, his heart beating softly in England's ear. He heard the thrumming grow faster and louder and he smiled, hugging America tighter. Then, the other nation sucked in a breath, his own voice now shaky.
"I'm sorry…," he started. A falter there gave away his own nervous embarrassment. "If I could marry you, I would… But as countries… we can't."
England nodded. "I know, love. It's okay. It's just going to forever be a dream. Countries can only marry if they intend to be joined in a union. My brothers and I are an exception as we are already related."
America nodded as well. "You know my citizens would never go for it, especially since we're two guys."
Pulling back, England smiled up at America. He brushed his hair, just lightly enough to feel it slip between his fingertips. "I do believe that's the first time you said you want to marry me."
America's eyes widened and his face blossomed into a deep shade of red, all the way to his ears. He pulled away, keeping only a hand on England's back, as he began fidgeting and looking at his polished black shoes. So many times the American was extremely full of himself, bursting with that good ol' American pride and confident, but when emotions as deep as love were involved, he always became a blushing teenager, showing off his true age. England enjoyed these moments, reveling in them when he could.
"Oh, really? Well, you know, I just, it came out, and I can't help it, but you know. You're just so cute." America had blurted it all out so fast England only caught the latter half of his sentence.
England moved to close the distance, kissing America on the cheek. "I believe you are the cute one today."
"No way! I'm much more than cute! I'm damn sexy!" America turned to show off his entire outfit, spinning so England even got a view of his backside. Of course, England would later deny his eyes had directly gone to America's ass. No, no, he was admiring his shapely legs, that's all.
"Yes, you do look dashing," England agreed, a proud smile on his face. "I'm glad to see you retained some of the manners I taught you."
"Naw, I learned these from France." America laughed when England punched him in the arm. It was never hard and it was never nothing more than an affectionate movement.
England shook his head, pretending to be mad, and looked out the window. His eyes softened. He could still hear the celebration from outside as the people cheered and welcomed the new happy couple. How he wished that one day the celebration could be about him.
America leaned in again, pulling England close. "What would our wedding be like, if we had one?"
"I'm not sure," England replied. His head somehow found its way to his chest again. He enjoyed feeling how hard and strong it was against him. He felt safe. "I wager it'd be just as glorious as this and much more American."
"Well, we're totally having it here. I'm convinced. You guys can do a wedding pretty damn well." America had started to sway, lightly dancing with England, as they continued to muse over a fake wedding that would never come. "We should just go and do it and confuse the hell out of people. We'll tell no one. It'd be a huge scandal!"
England couldn't help but start laugh. He looked up at America. "We just show up at the church in full uniforms and have them ring the bell for three hours."
"Leave in the carriage and wave at no one."
"And then wave from the balcony."
"We'd kiss, right?"
England frowned. "Oh no. You know my feelings towards public displays of affection."
"Dude! Kate totally kissed her husband in front of millions of people! And it's legal. It's not like they're unmarried and kissing, God forbid," America said sarcastically with an eye roll.
England shook his head. "Belt up. No, I don't think it'd be right for people to see two men kissing."
"I don't give a damn. It's my wedding." At this, America stopped swaying and pulled England's face close to his. "Now…how do we kiss…?"
England's eyes fluttered a few times, overcome by the close sudden proximity. "O-oh, I-I guess just a short… p-proper peck?"
America smiled. Nothing was ever short with this man. "Fuck that. I want to kiss you."
And he did. It was gentle, but passionate. He slipped a tongue into England's mouth, slowly caressing across England's tongue and all around his mouth. He pulled back after a moment, satisfied when he saw England's expression; eyes still closed and an undeniable look of pure love and want.
America smirked. "Oh… maybe like this."
England yelped, his eyes flying open, as he was suddenly dipped. America's hold on him was strong, but it was still frightful, nonetheless. America came close and stole England's lips again. Another gentle and passionate kiss. But soon England groaned in pain rather than moaning in desire.
"This hurts," he mumbled. So he was brought to stand upright.
America tapped his chin in thought. "Hm… we could do an Eskimo kiss. That's cute. Or maybe I could kiss your eyebrows."
England hid his face, hoping that the man wouldn't do such a thing. He was far too sensitive about them despite the fact America never meant any ill will towards the thick hair. Instead, America began kissing England's face in various spots.
Again, England sighed, closing his eyes. "You know, when you first came in here, I had half a mind to tell you to bugger off."
"Well I'm glad you didn't have a full mind," America hummed, never hesitating in his kisses.
England smiled. Every place America kissed was warm and tingling with excitement. "I realized I wanted to be alone. But not alone with only my thoughts. Alone with just you."
"I'm always up for that, sweetheart." America gave a final kiss on England's forehead and then rested his own on it. He looked him in the eyes fondly. "Are you better now?"
"Yes, yes I believe I am." England pulled away, fixing himself. "Shall we rejoin the party?"
"We should. Your new princess awaits!" America exclaimed. He held out his hand to England, to which the man took it, and led him out of the room.
America fell backwards onto the plush bed, crying out, "WHOO! What a day!" He held his foot and massaged it lightly before he started to undress. When he was down to just his undershirt and boxers, he snuggled into the pillow with a sigh. "Aw yeah, this is what I'm talking about."
England emerged from the bathroom, already undressed as well. He came over and decided he wanted to climb on top of America and just lay on his chest. America opened his arms, gladly welcoming his lover. When England made no move to get off of his chest, America decided he would bury his head in his hair. England reached down and pulled the covers over the two.
"What?" America started.
But England shushed him, nestling his head on America's breastbone. "America, I'm very tired. Let's just go to sleep."
"Like this?" America asked.
When England awoke in the morning to the distant chimes of Big Ben, he smiled. Everything was so warm and he felt terribly comfortable. His heart was no longer a flutter in his chest and his shoulders were relaxed. A steady beat under him and the rise and fall of the man beneath him brought him great comfort. He shifted so he could tilt his head up and watch America as he slept.
The younger man hadn't moved once in the night, choosing to hold England all through the night with a firm hand on his lower back and the other on the top of his shoulder blades. His hair was no longer its well manicured self and had returned to being a little ratty looking. There was a tug on England's lips as he smiled all the more affectionately. Such a beautiful man.
England wanted nothing more at that moment than to wake him up and talk to him. He sat up a little, his elbow pressing into the bed and not America's chest. He kissed the man on his chin, chuckling as his face twitched slightly. Then England kissed him again, and again, and finally America awoke. He sat up slightly and cupped England's face in his hands, giving him a proper good morning kiss.
"Hey there," America whispered, their lips inches apart.
"Good morning, love," England replied. He gave a short Eskimo kiss before moving down to peck at his neck, so wonderfully bare before him.
America giggled lightly, his feet squirming. "Oh, England… You're being cute again."
England opened his mouth to speak when he felt something hard poke into him. He sat up again and frowned. "You have morning wood."
"Yeah, and?" America didn't seem the slightest bit phased by this fact. He simply clutched at England and reversed their positions. "Can you blame a guy…?"
England gasped, pushing away lightly, but it was futile. America moved in to kiss him long and hard. Eventually, the two settled into a comfortable position, holding the other's face, and closing their eyes so tight they hoped they would fall into oblivion together. It was England who pulled away first, his breathing a little heavier than before.
"I feel like…this is our honeymoon… and yesterday was all about us…"
America kissed his cheek, his eyes still closed. "Let's pretend it is…"
England gasped, but smiled. He nuzzled once into America's cheek, prompting the man to give him another kiss. "But I have no ring, love."
America snapped his head up and made a long, drawn out sound that England supposed was one you'd make when thinking. "You're right… You don't… But never fear! I'm handy!"
"Is that what you call it?" England asked with a snarky smirk.
America ignored him and moved to grab a tissue from the nightstand. He sat back on his knees, his hands quickly twisting and pulling in a fashion that England couldn't understand what he could possibly be making. Surely it wasn't the ring.
But then America pulled back his hands and revealed just that. It was a small ring with a tiny diamond atop it, or rather, that was what he had made the tissue to look like.
"Ta-dah!" America sang. He held it out to England who sat up as well, taking the ring, and laughing. "Your ring my beauty."
He pulled England's left hand into his and pushed the soft ring onto England's ring finger. The man, for all of his laughing at the situation, couldn't help but stop short and gaze at the tissue as if it really were a jewel. The most precious jewel of all. He imagined that the diamond was a sapphire blue, like America's eyes.
America's eyes widened and something inside of him snapped. The feeling of holding back. He didn't want to be as emotional as England was about this situation, but damn if those words didn't make his heart pound in his ears and push him onto England, devouring his mouth. He sucked the man's tongue into his mouth as his hands worked to touch anywhere and everywhere. They both knew the ins and outs of each other's bodies, spending many late nights and early mornings in the bed together; among other places.
Somehow, right then and now, it all felt different. It felt different as England moaned America's human name, preferring to make it as human as possible, and arched against him. Different when America warmed up his hands with lube, pressing into England. Different when they kissed and shared that joined union.
But a good different. America called for England, holding him as he began thrusting into him, swiveling his hips to send a few pleasurable sparks along England's spine, until England was practically in tears of passion. But America moved and lay on his back, England sitting atop him. The older nation could hardly breath, the moment so overwhelming that he found he couldn't move.
"You like this position more, don't you?" America asked. He bucked up his hips, encouraging England to keep going. "Come on, Arthur… Let's keep going."
England slowly began bobbing up and down, riding America. The man below watched, his eyes half-lidded in lust. His hands were firmly on England's hips, making sure to guide him along. His tongue flicked out as England's head fell back and moaned loudly in the room.
"Alfred…!" England gasped. He rolled his head around, looking down at America. "P-please… Make… love to me…"
"But we are," America panted. He reached up, taking England's left hand in his again. He kissed it once before moving it to rest against his cheek. "We are, my husband."
England shook his head violently. "N-no! Pro-proper position, p-please!"
America chuckled, but agreed. He preferred to push all of his love into England just as much as the man was willing to receive it. His hands gripped England by the butt and moved them fluidly as he lay England back down. He kissed the man's cheek in adoration and continued his movements.
England turned his head to the side, his left hand beside him. He stared at his tissue ring, seeing only a gold band with blue at the tip. He smiled and moaned America's names, moving his hips along in time with America's. Soon, the eventually became passionate and messy and frantic. Together they made the bed squeak under them as they cried out, filling he room with a scent of sex. And as England came, crying America's name, he felt America do the same and fill him up with warmth. His warmth.
They lay together and enjoyed that moment of happiness. The way a real honeymoon should go.
"I love you," they both said, hands clasped at each other's heart.
But all honeymoons end. England waited with America at the airport, ignoring the press behind them that habitually followed their every movement. It was already a big gossip reel that America had been invited by England, so it was no surprise that anything the two did together was sure to get a lot of attention. But the men were used to it, having barely understood the word as "privacy".
America smiled down at England, wishing that he could see the same affectionate expression on the man's face. But England was hardly happy. He had removed his fake wedding ring in fear the press would see it. It was currently in his pocket. Reaching in, he removed it and handed it to America.
"Keep it," he said. "The next time I see you, I will wear it again."
America smiled more, taking England's hand in his, but not taking the ring. "Yeah and every time we're together, you'll wear it, right?"
England nodded. "Only if we are in private, yes."
America lowered his voice. "I wish I could kiss you."
At this, England looked away as if he were truly angered by the words. It couldn't be farther from the truth. "The press…"
Normally America would just shrug it off and agree, no longer pressing the issue, but that morning's romp had stirred something within him. He no longer wanted to just shrug it off. His relationship with England was not one to just casually discard and hide. It was deeper than that. Far deeper than any human could ever hope to understand.
"I don't care."
America moved in and swiftly captured England's lips. Around them, people clamored for a shot, jostling with one another for the perfect picture that would become the largest scandal in the world. And just when things were settling down.
England was frozen. He didn't want to kiss back, but he certainly didn't want to push America away. He'd be pushing his feelings back at him. That was not his intention at all, but the man would see it as such. Instead, he thought for a moment. A moment was all it took for him to see things America's way.
He really did love the idiot and had even pretended the morning was theirs. In his hand was a fake ring America had made him and they casually joked about a wedding that would never come. But maybe it didn't have to be such a far-fetched idea. They couldn't possibly marry tomorrow or the next year or even in five years time, but it was just possible that somewhere down the line, they could be together. A real ring adorning their fingers.
America pulled back as he heard the call for his flight.
"Now we're in trouble," England whispered. He watched as America slowly backed up, their eyes still on one another.
"I don't care."
"It'll be all over the news and our bosses will yell at us."
"I don't care."
"We'll never have a moment to ourselves, not for some time that is."
"I don't care."
"…I love you."
America smiled and nodded down at England's still clenched hands. "I love you too."
And as America left, leaving England to fend for himself in the throngs of paparazzi, the man took a moment to look down at his hands. He then realized the ring was still in his palm. The man hadn't taken it back.
He truly meant it.
Hoshiko2's cents: I totally stayed up and watched every second of this. It was magnificent. A very happy congratulations to Prince William and Princess Catherine. They were so adorable, I cried at least twice and spazzed all night on tumblr about it with friends. I hope if you didn't get a chance to watch and enjoy it, then you enjoyed my little fanfic.
If anyone would like to follow me on tumblr, I'm under hoshiko2. tumblr