Balmy with a Chance of Thunderstorms
Balmy, Cuba thought to himself, shivering and clutching his far too thin shirt closer to his chilled skin. It was spring, and Canada had assured him that the temperatures this time of year were not cold and were rather "balmy."
Cuba, who was used to lows barely dipping below 50 degrees Fahrenheit, figured that balmy meant it might be in the 40s and it might be windy. He wasn't expecting lows in the mid-20s and large amounts of bone-chilling rain.
Rain that had brought with it storms, severe ones, which had knocked out the power and left Cuba feeling even colder than before. Back home, it was probably in the 60s and everyone there would be complaining about it being freezing.
A voice, coming from somewhere in the darkness beside him, spoke up. "I'm so sorry about this, Cuba. This has to be the worst trip for you ever! If I'd know that this storm front was moving in tonight, we could have gone to another province and stayed there. But when I was watching the weather this week, I got a bit distracted and..."
He paused as a cold hand groping around the couch finally landed on his arm.
"Yah?" The gruff voice responded, his hand starting to withdraw.
Canada blundered around in the dark to reclaim it. After touching several parts of Cuba that were not his hand- and oh God Canada was sure he was blushing so brightly it would be visible in the dark house- he finally found the chilled hand and gripped it with his own.
"You're freezing," he murmured; cupping Cuba's hand between both of his.
Cuba shrugged, then remembering that Canada couldn't see him do so, he spoke up. "It's okay. I just ain't used to this type of Spring."
"Eh? Is it too cold for you? I thought that it was pretty warm today for this time of year and oh..." He trailed off, nervously scuffing his shoe against the carpet. "That's right, you're used to more tropical temperatures. I am so sorry, Cuba. I'm the worst host ever."
"Don't say that."
"But I am! I invite you over and it's cold and raining and the power goes out. And I can't do anything about any of those!"
It fell silent for a moment, a loud crash of thunder reverberating through the window panes as the rain continued to pour down. Finally, when he was certain another thunder crash wasn't about to interrupt, Cuba spoke up.
"Well. You could do one thing."
Canada blinked. Maybe he was imagining things, and it wasn't like he could see the expression on Cuba's face, but the way his hand trembled just so slightly and the almost unnoticeable timidness to his voice definitely meant something.
"...eh? What's that, Cuba?"
Cuba cleared his throat, hoping Canada would just catch on and he wouldn't have to ask such an embarrassing favor of the other country.
Nope, he thought to himself, He needs a hint.
Just about to open his mouth and make his request, Canada exclaimed a rather quiet 'Oh!'
"Um, Cuba?" He asked tentatively.
"I don't mean to be intrusive, and you can tell me no if it bothers you at all, but...but..." He took a deep breath. You can do this, Canada. You can do this!
"Would you like me to... hold you?" He flushed, and quickly added, "I'm pretty warm, I think."
Cuba shifted a bit on the couch before replying, "You'll...have to lean me in that direction. I can't see a thing."
Canada nodded, forgetting that he couldn't be seen, and moved one hand to grip Cuba's forearm. He nervously reached his other hand along the back of the couch until he felt the brush of Cuba's dreadlocks and placed his hand gently on his back. Slowly, and brimming with embarrassment, he guided the other country towards him.
He felt Cuba's broad shoulders lean against his chest and hastily removed his hands, dropping them to his sides.
Cuba had to smile to himself at that; he just knew Canada was probably blushing in that endearing unsure way of his. The southern country reached out with his hands, seeking out Canada's arms and pulling them snug around his waist. Canada let out a surprised gasp at the sudden contact.
"Ya ain't actually holding me if your arms aren't there," Cuba murmured quietly.
He smiled, it was warmer. Shifting, he tilted his head back and leaned it into the crook of Canada's neck.
"Much warmer. Thanks."
Canada hesitantly smiled. "No problem."
The two fell into an awkward silence, punctuated only by the thunder and rain outside; neither of them quite sure what to do in their current situation.
They'd been on plenty of dates, if you could consider sightseeing tours with tentative hand holding and dinners in which they just talked about normal every day things a date. But this was different for them; this was undeniably romantic for all intents and purposes, and that terrified them.
"So what's the weather like right now in Cuba?"
"Is ain't always this rainy in Canada, is it?"
They blurted out their questions simultaneously, both of them tensing at the other voice. Silence descended heavily as they mentally kicked themselves. Talking about the weather, they were desperate.
Lightning flashed outside so bright that it temporarily illuminated the room and Canada caught sight of Cuba's distinct profile before they were in the dark once again.
He bit his lip, a sudden thought coming into his mind; this would either be the bravest thing he'd ever done or the stupidest.
Well, the night can't really get much worse, can it? Canada reasoned before barreling ahead with the idea. "Cuba, can I ask a favor?"
He was proud of the fact his voice didn't quake, but was certain Cuba could feel his hands trembling where they clutched his waist.
"I was wondering...if I could...if you wouldn't mind if I..."
Cuba blinked, a smile creeping onto his lips. If he was right, Canada was about to ask the same question he'd been thinking.
"You can kiss me," he said before Canada could finish, sorely hoping his gut instinct was right.
Canada's eyes went wide, his throat suddenly so very dry. "Eh? How did you..."
"I was uh...thinking 'bout asking you," Cuba reluctantly admitted.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, both of the countries seeing a quick glimpse of how much the other was blushing. Without another word, they fumbled towards each other. Cuba turned around, his callused hands gently cupping Canada's cheek as Canada's hands tangled in his dark hair.
Leaning in slowly, they paused a brief moment mere inches apart.
"So...I kind of like you, if you hadn't guessed," Canada whispered, his voice husky.
Cuba chuckled. "Yah, I kind of like you too."
They closed the distance then, wind-chapped lips pressing to ones that tasted faintly of cigars, Canada's glasses getting pushed askew and Cuba's already too thin shirt getting tugged open around the collar. But at that moment, Cuba could care less about being cold; Canada's warm hands on his neck and on his chest quite enough to keep him happy. And as they shyly pulled apart, laughing awkwardly and making comments about why hadn't they done this sooner, even the thunderstorm outside didn't seem all that bad after all.
Snuggling back together on the couch, they sat in the dark and talked about mundane things until they both drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow, the weather would surely be balmy.