Written for a friend who was having a bad day. She requested "Pure, unadulterated, make you die from the cute fluff", and she wanted me to "pack as much fluff as humanly possible into this story". Having been dubbed the "Fluff Queen" by said friend some time ago...how could I refuse..?
February 12; 1:42 p.m.
It was stupid...he knew. After all, he would probably appreciate anything given to him, store bought or otherwise, and so there was really no reason to do this...right? And actually, the boy would probably be perfectly happy with anything, so long as he did, in fact, get something. It really didn't make sense...so then why was he doing this!? He hated the idea beyond all imagination, and it was probably bad for his mental state... Was he really worth it!? England gritted his teeth, swallowing thickly. No sense in contemplating this any more, he supposed... He had already thought long and hard about it when he was on the train, he was already here, and he knew that if he was going to back out, he would have done it by now, and so lifting his trembling fist, he brought it down sharply on the oak door a few times, body tense. He hated this...he really, honestly hated this, but he knew that if he wanted to do something truly romantic for Valentine's Day...he was going to need some help, especially for what he was planning... Cursing under his breath as the door opened (he had secretly hoped that no one was home,) he decided to stare at some shrubs on the side of the porch, hoping that he would have more courage if he didn't look the man in the face directly...
"Angleterre..? Que faites-vous ici?" (England..? What are you doing here?)
Dammit... This was going to be an impossible task...
"H-hello, France..." he forced himself to say, still refusing to look at the bearded blonde. "I...I came here to ask you something. It's about Valentine's Day..."
Okay, good. Good start, and he hadn't lost his nerve. Maybe, just maybe he would get through this after all...
"What, you came to ask me to be your Valentine? I know that I'm attractive Angleterre, but I must be truly so, if even you are to come to me..."
...or not. France accented his sentence with a flip of his hair, and England gritted his teeth again. No...he couldn't shout...couldn't get angry...had to keep going... If he wanted to ask his favour, then he would have to keep the Frenchman in a good mood so that he'd be willing to help...
"N-no, I don't want you to be my Valentine... I...I've already got one."
That damned poncy seemed generally surprised... Was it really so shocking, the concept of himself getting a date..? England was sure that he hated France.
"Yes...really. And actually...nngh...actually, that's why I'm here. C-can I...come in..?"
"Mais bien sûr. Venir." (But of course. Come.)
Following the man inside, England sat down on the offered couch, waiting as France made some tea, and as the two sipped the hot liquid, England calming down just by having some of the drink in his system, he finally managed to make eye contact with his host, cringing inwardly at the expression he saw there. Amusement...intrigue...the kind of expression that told you that you were never going to live something down... England steeled himself. He had to do this...
"So..." he began, his tone of voice making England want to scream. "...you wish for me to pull some strings so that you and your lover can have a romantic date in an upscale restaurant..?"
"Then you wish for me to show you how to pleasure your lover more effectively..? I'm sure that you don't do it properly, after all..."
"Then...perhaps you wish to learn my language so that you can whisper sweet nothings in the language of love~?"
"No! I've no interest in learning your hick language! Blimey, instead of blindly trying to guess what I want, why don't you just ask me already!? We'd get to the damn point faster!"
"Then what is it, sourcils? Dites-moi donc." (eyebrows. Tell me then.)
And just like that, England was back to his embarrassed disposition, glancing away and staring into his tea cup. He blushed, glaring at the drink as if it had personally wronged him, and when he did finally speak up, he didn't speak very loudly.
"I...I want you to teach me how to cook..."
"I...I want you to...I want to bake something...f-for America..."
The room was deathly silent for a moment as France absorbed the information. America... America was his lover..? He hadn't known that they were together... He knew that England liked America, but he didn't know that they were dating...
"I see. Then why not just bake whatever it is yourself..? Have you finally learnt that your food is no good..?"
More silence. Then a frustrated grunt.
"America...doesn't like it when I cook him things... I want to give him something that he'll truly enjoy, and...and I know that...you're the best when it comes to baking things. I...I need your help. Please."
"......................why have you come here today..?"
"Huh? B-because I want you to teach me how to bake something for America."
"Non. Why do you want me to teach you..? Why do you care so much about Amérique's palate..?"
"Because........I want to make him happy... I want him to know that I care about him enough to give him something great. I don't just want it to seem like I gave him something just because it was Valentine's Day. I want him to know that I love him, regardless of some stupid holiday."
And at that, the room fell silent once more, the only sounds being the gentle clak of tea cup against saucer as England put them down on the coffee table. The look on France's face changed dramatically, and where once was a snarky grin, an amused smirk...there was now a look of surprise, which quickly transformed into a gentle smile. The way England had come to him like this for his lover...it was honestly touching.
"Angleterre...to come to me, your most hated enemy and request...non, beg for help... You must truly love him."
"Oui. I will help you."
"Wha--? Really?!" England finally spoke, head shooting up. France just gave in, just like that!? He'd help!? For a brief moment, England thought that perhaps France wasn't as bad as he'd always thought he was... Then he remembered: he was France. Of course he was. But he would focus on that later. Right now, he had a few things to do...
February 14; 12:35 p.m.
And at last, the day had come. England had traveled to America's house the day before, and America had gone out of the house to "run and get something real quick", giving England just enough time to dash to the kitchen and start baking. He pulled the recipe France gave him out of his pocket and rushed to get the ingredients together, flour, sugar, milk, eggs, everything he needed to bake his pastry, and then he went to work, mixing and beating and rolling until everything was ready to put in the oven. France had given him something that could be baked quickly, and England was thankful for that, since he probably didn't have much time, and as the timer went off, signaling that his creation was done, he rushed to get it out, placing the undecorated goods on the counter, on a platter. Luckily he knew America had all this stuff on hand... He probably wouldn't have, if it weren't for Lithuania staying with him all those years ago, and so England really had to count his lucky stars for that one... He went to his suitcase and grabbed the icing that he had stuffed in there before he left, running back and trying not to rush the job, putting down the pink icing over the whole thing, trimming it with white, and then writing things down in red. Very stereotypical colours, but France said they worked. He moved to cover the cake, bringing it into the livingroom, and he waited less than five minutes for America to return before the door opened, and America shivered, brushing some snow from his shoulders before stopping and taking a deep breath.
"England...what smells so good..?"
"Well...I wanted to make you something for Valentine's Day, so...come here."
And for just a moment, America's heart dropped. England wanted to make him something..? He cooked..? Well, it was a touching thought, but... America sighed inwardly. England wanted to make him something, and the fact that he did just that instead of store-buying it just proved that he wanted whatever it was to be personal. America would just have to eat it. England's cooking wasn't really that bad, anyway... It wasn't great...but not inedible, as everyone seemed to claim. Walking over and sitting down on the couch, America tilted his head. Before he could say anything, the Briton who had baked the cake uncovered his creation, and America allowed his eyes to widen. There were red hearts adorning the pastry, and the words on the cake read: "I love you America." They were so simple, those four words, but England often had trouble saying them, and the fact that he had gone through all that trouble to bake the cake and then put them on there..? It made America's heart warm. He smiled, and when he looked up at his lover, the man was bright red, not even looking at him, at least, until America placed down what he was carrying on the table and leaned over, cupping the Briton's face in his hands and turning him towards him. He placed their lips together, soft and tender, and it wasn't long before he got some reciprocation, the stiff and unmoving lips of the Englishman beginning to soften up, and when they did, he couldn't help but chuckle, pulling back.
"Let's have some, huh?"
England moved to get up and grab some plates, but before he could, America stopped him, picking up a letter that he had gotten from the mail, handing it to his lover.
"It's addressed to you..." he explained, and when England opened it, no return address to be found, he read.
Comment allez-vous? (How are you?) Doing well with Amérique? I certainly hope so. I sent this express mail
so that it would reach you in time for this day for lover's, so you'd better appreciate it. Also, I sent you a
bill for the extra shipping costs, since if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have needed to send express. How
was the cake? Did it serve its purpose..? I put in a little something for you two for when you get to it.
Knowing you, it will get used, since you are so perverse. You still hold the title of "world's most sensual
entity", you know. Give Amérique my best regards, oui? And if you need any more advice...do not be afraid
to ask for assistance~ I will do my best to help.
England blinked. France had gone so far as to send a letter all the way here..? Maybe he really wasn't so bad after all...
"Hey England, what does it say?"
Before England could stop him, America jerked the letter away, causing the envelope to fall to the ground. What spilled out of it made both men blush slightly. A condom. Of course, France would send one of those. England took it back. France really was as bad as he had always thought. America averted his eyes from the sight long enough to read the letter, and when he did, his face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.
"England...you got help with the cake from France..?"
England blushed. Dammit... He had been distracted by the French letter...and not the one in America's hands... He hadn't stopped him from reading...
"I...I'm sorry. I knew that you wouldn't want to eat something I made, and so...I went to him for help. I only wanted to make you something that you'd like... You're not upset, are you..?"
America laughed. Upset..? On the contrary, he'd never been happier!
"You swallowed your pride and asked France for help just for me..?"
"England, that's great! Why would I be upset about that? I know how much you hate France, and if you're willing to go ask him for help...just for me..? England, I'm touched! Thank you!"
And with those few words, England blushed again. America really knew how to turn him red...
"W-well...I'm...g-glad you like the cake..."
"Like it? England, I love it! It was so sweet of you to go through all that! Here. Before we eat...there's something I want to give you. I have my own Valentine's present for you. This one's store bought, but...I hope you like it all the same."
And with that, he pulled another envelope from the pile, handing it to England. This one, like the last, wasn't labeled with a return address, and the only word on it was "England", written in fancy script. Opening it carefully, the Briton read the front, smiling at the sweet and sentimental message: "We've been through so much bad stuff. But we've also been through good stuff. We've been through it all, but the best part about all of it..." England opened the card to read the continuing message, but before he could, there was something very different that caught his eye. His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was, and as his eyes widened, jaw falling slack, America smiled softly, taking the ring from the place he had secured it on the card.
"Read the rest."
Hands trembling, England shifted his eyes back to the card, continuing to read. "...is that I got to spend them all with you. Happy anniversary." England swallowed. Anniversary... Anniversary..? But...they weren't...m-married... His gaze went back to his American lover, and at the look in his eyes...England's heart nearly stopped.
"England..?" he began, getting down on one knee. "I know we've been through some pretty bad stuff, but...I love you. More than anyone else on the planet. Will you marry me..?"
Ignoring the tears forming in his eyes, not even bothering to wipe them away, England smiled, letting his tears fall freely.
"America..." he sobbed out, finally wiping a tear free. "I...yes! Yes, America, I will!"
Pausing for a few seconds to process the answer, America soon fumbled to place the ring on his...he swallowed, fiancé's finger, jumping up to wrap him in a tight hug. He was engaged...he was going to get married!!! To England!!! He couldn't be happier right now...
"England...I love you." he breathed, hearing the quiet sniffles of his British lover. "I love you so much..."
"I love you too, America..."
The held each other for a few seconds, simply enjoying the feel of each other's body, but as the seconds wore on, England couldn't hold it in any more, and he pulled back, crushing their lips together instead. America was surprised, for sure, but he kept up, and when the kiss mellowed out, England's frantic, emotion pulled kiss becoming slower, more passionate, America hummed his approval, slipping his tongue out to coax his Anglo lover's lips open. He was eagerly let in, and the feel of tongue against tongue, the two slick muscles sliding so sensually against the other made England's head swirl. It felt wonderful, his nerves sensitive from his euphoria of the sudden proposal, and as they muttered sweet nothings to each other, speaking around the kiss, England moaned softly, pulling back for air. He saw the look of pure affection in America's eyes, and he smiled, eying the condom on the floor.
"Well...he was kind enough to send it... It would be a shame to simply toss it away."
"Yeah." America agreed, placing another quick smooch to England's lips. "Let's go. We can eat the cake later, okay?"
England nodded, and they both stood up, America grabbing the condom before taking his fiancé's hand and walking him up the stairs.