Apparently "yolo" was not an acceptable way to sign off on this--but I digress (and kid).
Well my lovelies! The APH SS 2012 has come to a close! Izzy and I were really amazed by the amount of sign ups we received and how everything has more or less, ran very smoothly! I'd like to thank you all so much for participating and in the chance Izzy and I join forces again to run another exchange, it would be awesome to see you all around once again. So with all that being said, happy holidays, whatever you celebrate! Have a wonderful new year's to boot. You guys rock and should be super proud of yourselves! Really! There is so much wonderful fic to read and share like wow!!! ;o;
Also, if you'd like to keep in touch for whatever reason, my blog is right here. So yes, good. It's been real, holla.
gosh guys, this has been a great event--this was my first time hosting an event (could you?? tell??? i could) and i'm fairly content about how it turned out. but wow, so many bumps in the rode (sobs), but we got over them!! well enough anyway. i really hope that everyone enjoyed themselves, you all did a great and fabulous job; proud of all of you!! a special thanks to those who filled in as pinch hitters, you know who you are!! /smooches your faces!!
i hope all of you had a wonderful christmas, and i hope you have many happy happy holidays to come. new years is just around the corner!! perhaps we will do this again next year.
in which case, we can look back at this event and improve it because a lot of things could have been done differently and for the better. but!! all in all, amazing event guys, couldn't have done it without you all!
like zana said above, feel free to keep in contact, loves!! \o/
The last of the ones that we received anyway. Some people, unfortunately, will be getting theirs late, but I've already contacted them! In the meantime, everyone can mingle!! Talk to your writers and gifees!!
Title: Stress
Recipient: scythe-meister-erik
Rating: G
Warnings: Nothing
Word Count: 940
Summary: Alfred has had a stressful day at work so he goes to a small restaurant and starts up a conversation with a waiter.
Author Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this and I really hope you enjoy it!
After a few minutes a man roughly the same age as Alfred walked up to his table. “Bonjour, I’m Matthew. I’ll be taking your order today. Can I start you off with something to drink?” He asked smiling softly. Matthew had been working at this place for only a few days. Alfred, how came here about twice a week, had never seen Matthew before.
“I’ll have a cola.” Alfred said glancing up at Matthew. Matthew nodded and walked off to get him his drink. Alfred sighed and went back to his menu, trying to cheer himself up. Maybe he’d try to make conversation with the waiter, talking to people always seemed to cheer him up a bit.
Matthew returned to Alfred after a moment. “Here’s your drink sir. Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?” He asked as he sat down the drink. Alfred shook his head.
“I’m ready to order. I’ll just take a burger; everything on it, please.” He said handing Matthew his menu.
“Would you like anything else to go with it?” Matthew asked. Alfred shook his head and Matthew walked off. Alfred gazed into his glass as he waited for his food. He was thinking about work. It seemed to get more and more stressful every week. Matthew noticed the look on Alfred’s face when he was cleaning some tables near him. “Sir?” He asked. “Is everything alright?”
Alfred looked up from his drink quietly. “Yeah man, I’m fine.” He said softly. “Just a bit stressed I guess.”
“May I ask why?”
Alfred sighed. “It’s just my boss… He keeps piling on the work and I can barely keep up.”
Matthew walked over to Alfred. “Sounds like you need a break.”
“Yeah I guess so…” Alfred replied. “Talking helps.” Just then Matthew’s boss walked by, telling Matthew to get back to work. Alfred sighed and went back to staring into his drink. He felt much better, having talked to Matthew. It was strange to him about how just talking to a random stranger, that he didn’t even know the full name of, had relived so much stress.
Alfred waited for a few more minutes before Matthew came back with his food. “Here you are sir. Enjoy your meal.” Matthew said.
“Alfred.”
“I’m sorry? What?”
Alfred looked up and smiled a bit. “You can call me Alfred.”
Matthew nodded. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Alfred.” He said before walking off. Alfred began to eat his food. It was perfect, as always. He wanted to talk to Matthew again, so he took his drink and poured it into a nearby plant.
A few minutes later Matthew returned. “Would you like a refill, Alfred?” He asked remembering to use Alfred’s name. Alfred nodded, just happy to exchange a few words with Matthew. “Would you like anything else while I’m at it?” Matthew asked.
“No thanks dude.” Alfred replied. Matthew nodded and walked off leaving Alfred to himself. Alfred returned to eating and sighed. To be honest he had wanted to start a conversation with Matthew but as soon as he came by, Alfred forgot just about everything. Maybe he could try again when Matthew came back with his drink.
A few minutes later Matthew returned and Alfred forgot just about everything he was going to say. What he didn’t forget seemed to random to bring up. “Dammit.” He whispered to himself after Matthew was out of earshot. “I talked to him earlier. Why is it so hard now?”
Matthew had noticed something different about Alfred the last few times he had walked by his table. It seemed like he was going to say something. Matthew shrugged it off until he walked by Alfred’s table a few minutes after he had refilled his drink. His drink was empty again and the ice was gone just like the time before. “Would you like another refill?” Matthew asked.
“Yes please.” Alfred responded. As Matthew began to walk away with his cup Alfred raised a hand out to stop him.
“Oui?” Matthew asked turning around. Alfred shook his head.
“It’s nothing.” Alfred replied. Deciding it was best not to pry Matthew nodded and walked to the kitchen to refill his drink. By now he knew something was up, but he knew it was best not to get into the customers business.
He returned with Alfred’s drink a few moments later along with the bill. Alfred gave Matthew his credit card and Matthew went to go charge it. While he was away he got an idea.
He returned to Alfred’s table and set the bill there for him to sign. When Alfred pulled it out he noticed a napkin fall out and onto the floor. He picked it up and examined it raising an eyebrow. On the napkin was a phone number and a message that read. “You seemed like you needed to talk. Feel free to call me. My hours are five to eight, Monday though Friday and six to nine on weekends.” Alfred quickly signed the bill, leaving a large tip, and ran home with the napkin. As soon as Matthew got off work he was going to call him and finally have the conversation he was planning the entire night.
Title: Math Problems & Cowboy Hats
Recipient: tokyotwinkle
Rating: K
Warnings: Cowboy! America Highschool AU
Word Count: 1,054
Summary: Before moving to New York, the math in Montana was nice and easy, but now he doesn't have a clue what's going on anymore. But when an unsuspecting friend is willing to study with him, they'd rather talk about Cowboy hats, siblings rather math problems.
Author notes: I wish you a merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new year ^-^ Oh how I am horribly inexperienced with this pair, but as I always say, my best work always comes from unknown things. (If that makes any sense...) Anyways, happy reading~
But now, he was living in loud and busy New York with his Mom, and the math here is ridiculous! Learning one thing one day, and learning a whole other thing the next day. Whenever doing his homework, he'd spend about 15 minutes on just one problem, and be lucky if he'd finish it 5 minutes before his bedtime to watch a little television. If it wasn't for his Math Support class, he would have gave up after the first 2 weeks. (Probably sooner.)
'Then again, Math Support can only do so much.' He thought to himself as he continued working.
"Do you mind if I sit here and study?"
Alfred looked up. A young, Asian student stood before him with a math book in his hand. Brown eyes, brown hair, and he could have sworn he saw a little face in that flyaway curl of his, or perhaps Alfred was just imagining things again.
Alfred smiled. "Sure I don't mind at all."
The boy smiled back as he took the seat in front of Alfred. He cracked open the book in his hand, and resumed his practicing.
Alfred gazed at what he was doing and grinned. "Hey, that's the same thing I'm doing!" He shouted happily.
"Shh!" The boy and a few others around them whispered harshly.
"Oh, sorry." He said with a small blush on his face. "That's the same thing I'm doing." He said, more quiet this time.
"Really? You want to study together?" He asked.
"I'd love that because I have to take the test next block, and I don't think I'm gonna pass it." Alfred mumbled.
"Well since I studied last night I don't mind helping you at all..." He trailed off, not knowing his name what so ever.
"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, and you are?" He asked holding out a hand to him.
"Im Yong Soo." He introduced, and shook the other's hand nimbly.
"Nice to meet you Yong Soo."
"No, no, no, Im Yong Soo."
"I know, and I'm Alfred F. Jones."
Shaking his head, Yong Soo took out a pencil, and with his sharp handwriting he wrote,
Im Yong Soo
"Oh, so your name is actually Im Yong Soo. Got 'cha. Can I just call you Yong Soo?"
"Everyone does, so why not?" Yong Soo spoke with a small shrug.
"Good. So Yong Soo, if you studied last night, why are you studying more?"
"Because you can never be too sure, even though I don't think I'm going to fail the test."
"Oh you're taking the same test too?"
"Yeah, but a two blocks from now."
"Well at least you have more time."
"Yeah but you've got a nice cowboy hat."
"Huh?"
"Your hat. I like it, I've never seen one like it before." Yong Soo spoke pointing to his cowboy hat.
"Well thanks, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Are we not naming thing one person has but not the other?"
Alfred laughed at that. "It sure does sound like that, doesn’t it?" He asked.
Yong Soo nodded. "Do you mind if I try it on..?" He asked rather shyly.
"Umm, sure?" Alfred spoke a little unsure and plucking off his hat. He leaned over and placed it on Yong Soo's head.
"Wow.” He said touching the suede hat before grinning. "I like it."
Alfred grinned. "You look about as cute as a baby's butt in that hat."
"Huh?"
He laughed a bit. "Don't worry, it's a compliment. It just means that you’re really adorable in that hat."
"Oh, well thanks." He spoke the smile never leaving his face.
"No problem, it was my dad's. He let me have it before he died."
"Awe." Yong Soo said sadly.
"It's fine. I mean at least I have something that reminds me of him."
"Well if it makes you feel any better, I never met my dad, or my mom. I grew up as the youngest with 2 sisters, and 4 brothers."
"Must have been some full house."
Yong Soo nodded. "But it's sometimes fun having a bunch of siblings, you know?"
"Well I only have one sibling, my younger brother, Matthew." Alfred replied.
"Oh I know! You can be my big brother if you want another sibling." He chirped.
"That sounds like a great idea. Come here little bro." He said leaning over the table to hug him.
Yong Soo wordlessly leaned over the table and hugged him.
Suddenly, the bell rung, making them both flinch.
"Oh shoot, I didn't even get a chance to study a little more before the test." Alfred said releasing the other and putting his books away.
"Sorry for not helping you like I said I would." Yong Soo spoke and plucked off the hat and gently putting it on his head.
"It's fine. I did like talking to you, and adopting you as a little brother."
He smiled at that. "Well if you don't remember anything else, just remember this: The function notation, f(x), is the same thing as 'y'. Exponential is the curvy line with a common ratio, and Linear is the straight line with a common difference."
"I'll try to remember that. Thanks again." Alfred said before he walked off.
Yong Soo ran behind him and hugged him. "Good luck on your test. I'll see you later."
Alfred had no choice but to turn around and hug him back, not that he had a problem with it. "I'll see you later too, okay? Now I seriously gotta skedaddle." He said before squirming out of his hold. With another wave, Alfred ran off.
Yong Soo smiled as he sat down. "I still want his hat." He said to himself before laughing quietly to himself.
Title: First Christmas
Recipient: Elise / feliksnavidad
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 2,711
Summary: Human AU. Gilbert and Ludwig spend their first Christmas together without their parents. (German brothers with mentioned PruHun and GerIta)
Author notes: Hello, Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy the story. I tried to go along with that angst theme you said you wanted, but I just couldn’t leave things sad - it’s Christmas after all. Enjoy!
The eldest son, Gilbert, was an engineer working for the German Aerospace Center. He was engaged to a young woman and at twenty six he’d already bought his own home. He visited when he could, but work and his own social life kept him quite busy. Ludwig, the younger son, was at university now. He’d thrown himself into his academic career, sparing little time for anything else but school and the few friends (and boyfriend) he had.
They all supported one another and their individual efforts, of course. But they all simply were involved in their own lives to really spend much time together. Even Louise and Aldrich had not as much spent time together as others thought a married couple should. This had been their lives and they had all been content in it. They were individuals until the Christmas season. Something then, changed in the family.
Aldrich had always spent more time at home in December. He took Christmas decorating seriously and their lawn always had an impressive light display out front. Louise had always taken Christmas baking to a new level. Her Christmas cookies and candies were the envy of the neighborhood. Ludwig, like his father, enjoyed the decorating. He’d always made a point to help him. Even Gilbert got into the spirit and most years spent more and more time at his parents’ home. More often than not he’d even bring his fiancé.
Christmas had always been special for the Bielschmidts. It was the one time of year when they all came together; when they did things together and really cherished one another as a family. It was routine and predictable, but none of them would have their holidays any other way. Since the boys were children, each year had been the same. Of course there had been differences as the boys grew, but Christmas was always a time for family, and every year they could count on their usual festivities. There was no way they could have known that the previous Christmas had been their last as a family.
It had been mid-November when tragedy struck. Ludwig had been away at college, and Gilbert had been busy with his job and fiancé. Life for Aldrich and Louise Bielschmidt had settled into a new routine of work and personal projects, but never did they forget their always punctual, monthly date night. Once each month they made one another a priority - it had been something they’d done since Ludwig had first entered high school and they’d had no need to stand watch over a young child. The night had started out as any other - a short drive for dinner followed by plans to see a movie. Hours later the brothers had received the call. Louise and Aldrich hadn’t made it to dinner. Just blocks away from their home their car had been struck head on by an oncoming car driving in the wrong lane. Louise had died in the collision while Aldrich had died en route to the hospital.
The funeral had been held over Ludwig’s fall break from school. The whole affair was quick with both sons grieving only in private. It had been a weekend full of ostentatious floral arrangements, handshakes and gracious thank yous for words of sympathy. Neither young man had been equipped to deal with such an affair. Ludwig was quiet, stoic and private in his feelings. Gilbert was outwardly carefree, choosing humor over public sadness. When the weekend had come to an end, both Ludwig and Gilbert returned to their private lives with no real plans to spend the break together.
——-
When Gilbert attended university, it had always been Aldrich’s job to drive up to the school and to bring their eldest son home for the holidays. Now that their father was gone, Gilbert took it upon himself to retrieve Ludwig after his exams. The younger brother had protested for a week, insisting that he could take a train home or catch a ride with a friend. Of course, Gilbert would have none of these protests and simply shook them off, informing him he’d be there the evening after his last exam. The academic schedule had been cutting it close this year - it was already the 22nd when Ludwig finished his exams.
It was around six in the evening when he pulled up in front of his brother’s dormitory. Ludwig was prompt as always and was already standing with his luggage at the doors. The blond readily hauled his belongings into Gilbert’s trunk and took his seat beside the elder brother. “Thank you for picking me up.” He said gruffly.
“Yeah, no problem.” Gilbert nodded, trying not to mention their father in any capacity. All month long he’d been dreading and avoiding the holidays, much to his fiancé’s chagrin. He was sure Elizaveta was going to strangle him if he didn’t show at least a bit of holiday cheer soon. He fell silent, as did Ludwig, and the drive back to their home town was quiet.
“You’re welcome to stay with us, you know.” Gilbert offered after a good hour of silence.
“I don’t want to intrude.” Ludwig shook his head in response.
“It’s not intruding. Lizzie just got the guest bedroom all set up and you know she’d love to see you.” Came the veiled plea. The idea of Ludwig spending the holidays alone in their parents’ empty house was sickening.
“I want to stay home.” Ludwig insisted firmly.
“Alright, alright.” Gilbert held his hands up in defeat. “What about Christmas?” He asked. “D’you have plans for that yet? I mean … We could do something … y’know?” What they could do that wouldn’t be excruciatingly painful, he didn’t know, but it seemed only right for them to be together.
“I figured you’d be going to Elizaveta’s parents’ house.” Ludwig remarked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Ah …” Gilbert rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, she wants me to but I don’t have to. Or you can come, y’know. They’d be happy to have you.” He felt relieved when Ludwig seemed to consider the offer for a moment.
“I think you should go. I can visit with friends.” Ludwig’s reply was a bit forced. Again the brothers lapsed into silence. It was strange now, trying to force closeness. They’d both been close to their parents and with them, they’d felt close, as a part of a whole family. Now it seemed so forced, fake almost. They were eight years apart. Gilbert had become an adult by the time Ludwig was just beginning to figure the world out. What did they have in common save for blood?
“We’ll do something the day after.” Gilbert tried. He knew he wasn’t Ludwig’s guardian. He was a teenager, yes, but he was an adult in the eyes of the law and capable of caring for himself in most ways.
“Yes.” Ludwig nodded. “We’ll do something after.” He assured Gilbert, forcing a bit of a smile for him. “You will be alright for the holiday?” He asked, double checking.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yes.”
Gilbert let go of a little sigh as he parked outside his parents’ home. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” He asked, watching Ludwig get out of the car.
“I will.” Ludwig promised, and waved as the older of the pair headed to his home in the next town over.
——-
Christmas Day dawned with a morning that was as gray and dreary as Gilbert felt. There was snow coming, he suspected, but for now the steely gray, chilly atmosphere did his mood no favors. Everything about the day reminded him of his family. Every Christmas song, decoration and food left him worrying about Ludwig. He sent his younger brother a text, a short and sweet ‘How’s the day going?’ and received a ‘Just fine. Hope yours is well’ in response. The simple reply didn’t do him much good as far as worry went. Still, Ludwig had said he had plans with his friends, and he had promised Elizaveta that he’d go to Christmas dinner with her family. He tried his best throughout the day to be cheerful, but how could he? His entire holiday was different this year. Nothing was as it should be, and while he did love his fiancé and he while did love his future in laws it did little to soothe his wounds.
Across town, Ludwig had made plans with some of his friends. Most of them had non-religious families, or had plans only for Christmas day. They’d planned to go out for dinner somewhere cheap and just catch up, talking about their first semesters of college or their first few months out of high school and in the work world. It had sounded appealing in theory … but when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around them. He didn’t want to be alone, but the idea of feigning cheer for his friends seemed exhausting. Each of them would want to know how he was doing. They’d all probably have offers to come visit for Christmas Day. Most of his friends’ parents liked him very much - they said he was a good influence. How could he really enjoy Christmas with another family when everything he’d known was gone?
By the time evening came around, he’d concocted an entire list of excuses of why he couldn’t go, and managed to cancel all of his plans. Most of his friends seemed to buy it - even his boyfriend Feliciano seemed to understand his lack of enthusiasm. While it was a relief, he realized now he had an evening to spend alone. He set down his cellphone, uninterested in anymore conversation and surveyed the house. It was dark save for the few lights he’d turned on. There was a fine film of dust most everywhere. Everything was in its place, untouched, exactly as it had been when he and Gilbert had shut the doors at the end of that dreaded weekend.
There was no tree, no lights in the windows nor on the lawn. There was no lingering smell of Christmas cookies nor the gentle reminder of pine in the air. There was no faint jingle of bells nor the soothing sounds of carols. It was dark, silent and still, and it made Ludwig’s heart ache. It was wrong, and he realized he just couldn’t let this continue. It was already Christmas Eve, and it was already evening. He was alone and there would be nobody else to share in it. He didn’t care. Just because his parents were gone didn’t mean this house couldn’t see Christmas one last time before they fixed it up and sold it.
Now determined to decorate at least one room, Ludwig made his way to the garage where his father stored everything. It wasn’t too hard to locate the Christmas decorations. The long, rectangle of a box that held the fake tree was obvious enough, and it was surrounded by a wall of brown, cardboard boxes, all labeled ‘Christmas’. There was no ‘X-Mas’ labeling in the Bielschmidt house. Nothing annoyed his father more about the season than that ‘disrespectful abbreviation’. He started with the tree, lifting the heavy carrier from its place and carrying it into the living room. Next he carried the two boxes of ornaments and lights in, setting them beside the tree box.
He bent to unpack the tree and froze, hearing something outside. There was a crunch of gravel on the walkway. He frowned. Who on Earth would be coming here so late? He stood, ready to see to the door when it opened. Gilbert walked in and blinked in surprise. “You’re still here.” He remarked stupidly, looking Ludwig over.
“I’m staying here.” Ludwig countered. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Elizaveta’s parents’ tonight.”
The elder brother shrugged. “I was.” He admitted. “But I got there and … I just had to be here. Y’know?” He asked. “I’m guessing you felt the same thing, otherwise you’d be out with that little gang of yours.” He mused.
“I didn’t want to have to deal with everyone’s pitied invites.” Ludwig confessed.
“So you’re decorating the tree?” Gilbert asked, nodding to the half opened box.
“I thought the house could use a little Christmas.”
“You’re missing ambiance.” Gilbert teased, and shut the door behind himself. He set a case of beer on the coffee table and walked over to the stereo. “C’mon. We need some music.” He said with a little smile. Their father had loved Christmas carols. He flipped on the switch to a station that played constant carols all season long. He moved then to light one of their mother’s scented candles. It wasn’t actual baking pie, but the smell was close enough.
“Almost.” Ludwig said thoughtfully, and nodded to the fireplace when Gilbert gave him a questioning look.
“I like the way you think.” Gilbert grinned, and while Ludwig set up the tree, Gilbert got a fire started. Before long, it was hard to tell there was any grief between them at all. The radio played a gentle rendition of ‘Silent Night’ as the fire cast a warm glow over the living room. Together the brothers worked on stringing lights around the tree - colored and white, of course. Their mother had always said colored lights alone were too dark, and white alone was too boring. The mixture was perfect and the two had to agree she’d always had a point.
“Hey,” Gilbert said as they began to hang each ornament on the tree. “D’you remember this one?” He asked. It was the shape of a bell with a single thumb print in the middle. The print had marker around it to make it look like a smiling angel with wings.
“Mutter griped and griped at you to make one of those at the school bazaar.” Ludwig chuckled softly.
“Yeah, I finally made one!”
“When you were fourteen and graduating the middle school!” Ludwig shot back, making them both laugh. He fell silent then as he took out an ornament shaped like a bear wearing a sweater bearing the symbol for the London Underground. “Vater got this one. Do you remember?” He asked.
“How could I forget?” Gilbert snickered. “Mutter and Vater lost you at the station and went on ahead. Mutter was crying for hours while you sat on your butt at the previous stop!” He shook his head and took a break from the ornaments to grab them both a beer.
They carried on like that for the next hour, swapping the stories of each ornament, of Christmases past and their parents as they drank together. They were eight years apart, and growing up they’d simply never been close. It had seemed without their parents to bind them, they’d simply fall apart, but Ludwig was starting to realize that just wasn’t true. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” He asked Gilbert, though it was more of a statement and less of a question.
Gilbert slung his arm around his brother’s shoulders - a task that involved some tip toe standing thanks to Ludwig’s immense height. “Yeah … Yeah, I think so.” He remarked, surveying their work. Their family had broken, and things would never be the same. It was impossible to fix things as they were, but with a bit of work, perhaps they could fix things to be different, but just as good.
“Merry Christmas, Luddy.” Gilbert said, tipping his beer bottle against Ludwig’s.
“Merry Christmas, Gil.” Ludwig returned the toast, smiling warmly at the tree.
Title: "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
Recipient: Jade (syntha7)
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,153
Summary: Trying to escape the cold, America ends up at Russia's house, but his careless actions turn the incident much less innocent.
Author notes: I tried to use as many of the prompts as I could work in and still have it make sense, although I couldn't quite bring myself to make it M-rated... OTL
His eyes lit up as he spotted a vaguely familiar sight. He'd only been there a few times and rarely on good terms, but he knew Russia's house when he saw it. Yearning for warmth more than stressing over the occupant of the house, America stepped up his pace and reached the front door a few minutes later.
At first his knock went unanswered, and he was starting to think Russia might actually let him freeze to death. Then the door suddenly creaked open, revealing a fake, childish smile.
"Privet, America," Russia greeted in his falsely cheerful voice, blocking the opening with his broad body.
"Hey dude, let me in," America begged, his need for warmth overriding his usual tendency to shun the Russian.
"Why?" Russia asked, sounding honestly surprised.
"It's freezing out here!" America whined, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to generate some warmth.
Russia visibly relented and stepped aside, letting America enter the house. The warmth hit the North American Nation like a wave, washing over him and brushing off the chill.
"Thanks, man," America said with more sincerity than he'd used with the Russian in a long time. The deep violet eyes widened slightly in surprise.
The house was huge, with tall ceilings and too much space for one person, even if he was a Nation. It was warm though, and Alfred could see the warm glow of a fire through a doorway off the main hall. He kicked his boots off and led the way in, Ivan following him in a sort of stupor of surprise.
America was a bit surprised to find the room empty. He'd expected that Russia might have his siblings or the Baltics staying with him while he hosted the current World Conference, but that didn't seem to be the case.
America shrugged it off and settling himself as close to the fire as he thought safe, shrugging off his jacket and arranging it around himself like a nest.
"Would you like anything to drink?" Ivan asked. It sounded as if he was torn between acting like a good host or making some snide comment about his rival making himself at home. Not that America would have noticed, of course.
"Yeah, hot chocolate sounds great!" America replied, his blue eyes glistening with the thought of the rich liquid. Russia smirked, casting a glance at America's stomach. He had to admit he was a bit amazed at the fact the other Nation was still in such good shape, given his diet.
Nevertheless, he left the room to get what his uninvited guest had requested. Despite their past, the social requirements of being a host were deeply ingrained in Russia's past. Also, he had to admit, though only to himself, he didn't hate America as much as everyone seemed to think.
When he returned to the warm room, where Alfred sat holding his hands up to the roaring fire, he found the blond humming to himself. The song sounded familiar, but Russia didn't know it. He figured it must be more common in the other's country.
"What is that song you are humming?" he asked, causing America to break off as he looked back over his shoulder at the Russian.
"Baby, It's Cold Outside," America replied, "hey, thanks!"
He took his drink from Russia, who seemed slightly frozen. America settled back down, making small, appreciative noises at the taste of the drink.
The Russian, on the other hand, was beginning to feel a bit hot under the collar. He tried to tell himself that America had no ulterior motive for humming that particular song, but his hope betrayed him. After all, why else would America have shown up on his doorstep?
He set his own drink aside and settled himself down beside the blond, who looked up in surprise.
"Russia?" Alfred began, "What are you--mmf!"
He was interrupted by a kiss, shy but determined. Russia had pushed aside his doubts and hesitation, deciding to act on his own feelings. If the American returned them, he could relax.
America didn't seem to be in a particularly cooperative mood, however. He quickly pushed the Russian away with both hands on his chest. There was a moment of silence following the action, in which wide blue eyes stared into violet in shock.
Ivan looked away first, trying to act as if the other's actions hadn't hurt him. He got to his feet, thinking he might find a quieter place in his house to sulk.
"Wait--Russia!" America exclaimed from behind him, accompanied by the sounds of him scrambling to his feet. Russia didn't turn, but he hesitated. It was enough; the American was able to catch him, grabbing the fabric of Russia's shirt in one hand.
"I'm sorry! I--what was that?" America asked, his eyes still wide.
"It was nothing," Russia assured him, but he wasn't able to conjure his usual fake smile. The expression he did manage to come up with, whatever it was, wasn't even enough to fool America.
"Liar," the blond stated, his voice dropping to a murmur as he pressed further into Ivan's personal space. The Russian found himself having to resist the urge to grab America and kiss him senseless. He shook the thought away, chalking it up to the adrenaline rush that kissing America the first time had given him.
"What brought it on?" Alfred asked. Ivan kept his mouth shut, but it was clear that the American wouldn't be giving up anytime soon. He was also nearly pressed against Ivan now, so of course the Russian couldn't be expected to think clearly.
"Your song," he murmured finally, looking away from those clear blue eyes.
"My song?" Alfred asked, confused, "You mean 'Baby, It's C--" His eyes widened in sudden realization.
There was a moment of silence, then the man giggled. Russia could feel an embarrassed, frustrated blush rising to his cheeks. There would be no way to live this down; he was sure America would hold it over his head for years--maybe several decades even.
He was caught off guard by Alfred's lips pressing against his own. The American's hands came up to tangle in his pale hair, preventing escape should Ivan have wanted it. He didn't, instead opting to pull America closer by the waist, returning the kiss hungrily.
Minutes passed before they pulled away from each other, panting heavily.
"Shall we move to the bedroom?" Alfred asked, smirking.
Ivan rolled his eyes at the American's forward attitude even as a guess, but he pulled the blond down the hall all the same.
Title: Lights in the Rain
Recipient: Anh/a-senseless-dreamer
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,308
Summary: Estonia and Latvia are left to explore America’s Christmas-decorated capital in the pouring rain.
Author notes: Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy the story. I’ve never written for these two characters before, but I wanted to do something kind of light and Christmas-y. Enjoy!
“Is it?” Estonia asked wryly as if the loud pounding of raindrops on the window hadn’t been enough of an indicator of the outside weather. “What a surprise.”
“Don’t make fun!” The smaller Nation said, frowning as he turned to the other. “I was hoping for a little snow.”
“All the snow we get at home and you were hoping for it here?” The Estonian asked without looking up from his laptop. They’d been in America’s capital city for a few days now for a quick conference just before the holiday season. Most of the Nations seemed caught up in the holiday spirit - even those who did not celebrate appeared cheerful. America’s people most certainly had gone and done their best to decorate Washington, D.C. to look its best.
“Mr. America always says how pretty this city is in the snow at Christmas time.” Latvia said with a bit of a frown. “He told me the lights are really something to see at night when there’s a snow fall.”
Estonia sighed and closed his laptop, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned to face the Latvian. He was grown, just like the rest of them. He’d known Latvia for centuries and yet sometimes he was still so childlike. They’d originally planned to spend the evening going out for a meal with Lithuania but apparently Poland had arranged plans for them and there really wasn’t much arguing with the Pole, that much Estonia understood.
That left he and Latvia to entertain themselves for the evening. Ordinarily he wouldn’t complain about the alone time - it was hard to get such a thing these days when they were all so busy as their own independent Nations. It was nice to have the time alone but not when Latvia was reverting to childlike whining over the weather. He’d been spending far too much time with that childish Sealand, he mused.
“It’s just a little rain.” Estonia tried, going to stand behind him. He glanced out over Latvia’s head at the steely gray sky and the traffic splashing around the streets below them.
“It’s a lot of rain.” Latvia replied glumly, unconsciously leaning back into Estonia, head tipping backwards against his shoulder. “Too much rain.”
“It’s just a little rain.” Estonia said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He rested his chin on the top of Latvia’s head, continuing to glance out at the weather. “You know, Christmas lights do still work in the rain, Raivis.” He murmured, using the more intimate human name he’d been given.
Latvia turned to face Estonia then. “Will you still go out with me to look at the lights then?” Latvia looked up at Estonia other with positively the most pitiful look he’d ever seen. “Please, Eduard?” He pressed.
It was cold, and it was rainy and none of that sounded appealing at all. Sure, he liked Christmas as much as the next, but they were away from the comforts of home and it would be nothing but a mess out there and oh - damn it all, he didn’t think he could resist the face. “Fine.”
“Really?” Came Latvia’s pleasantly surprised reply. “Oh, great! We can take umbrellas - it won’t be so bad, really, Eduard, it won’t!” He pulled away from the taller Nation, moving immediately to grab the coat he’d left in Estonia’s room from earlier.
“Calm down, will you?” Estonia asked, lifting an eyebrow as he went to grab his own coat and the large umbrella he’d had the foresight to bring. He had a feeling they’d be sharing it. Raivis never seemed to be prepared for these kinds of things. He could only hope he wouldn’t regret the downpour.
-------------------------------
A half hour later, Estonia was certain he’d made a mistake. It was chilly outside though the cold was something that didn’t come as much of a shock to either Baltic Nation. But along with the cold air came a chilly wind and that freezing rain. It was dreadful, and as they ventured further from their warm, dry hotel, he could feel his socks growing wet in his shoes. It was getting darker and with the absence of any usable light, it simply seemed to grow colder.
Still, they both walked, Latvia holding the umbrella between him while Estonia kept an arm around his small shoulders. He was far too indulgent, he decided as they walked. He was quite ready to suggest they call it a night when the gigantic Christmas tree on the ‘Mall’ America’s people were so proud of lit up. It caught even his attention, though Latvia’s surprised gasp would have done that all on his own.
“Eduard, look!” He said, eyes wide as he leaned into the other Nation, watching the tree. It was most definitely dark and late enough now and around them more buildings on blocks further down were turning on their displays as well. It was hard not to find some joy in the lighting after seeing Latvia’s delight at the situation.
“Yes, yes, it’s lovely.” Estonia admitted and glanced longingly at one of the snack stands selling warm treats. “Now if we’re going to have to be out here in the cold can we at least get something to eat?” He asked, pulling Latvia closer for warmth.
“Sure.” The smaller Nation chuckled and tugged him over to a small stand selling hot cider and hot chocolate as well as some warm pastries and roasted nuts. As a thank you for coming along with him, Latvia decided to be nice and treat Estonia. He got for them both cups of hot cider and a warm, flaky pastry to share.
As they huddled together beneath the shelter of the stand, they were able to stay out of the rain and simply enjoy their snack while surveying the beauty of the scene. It wasn’t all that crowded, given the cold, wet evening. It was peaceful, almost as if they were some of the only people around. “It is beautiful.” Estonia conceded, sipping gratefully from the steaming cup warming his hands.
“It is.” Latvia agreed. “I wonder how they get one up so very large. I mean, we’ve got ones so big at home and - ” He set off on a ramble about the trees in his home. Of course, this was something Estonia was no stranger to. He was all too used to the other’s rants and rambles about … well, anything really. He simply didn’t know when to be quiet. That didn’t matter at the moment. Sure, they had their age old debate about Christmas trees but for tonight it was worth letting Latvia go on and have his evening.
“Alright, alright,” He chuckled after a good few minutes about trees. “Well we’ve seen enough. What do you say we look a bit more and perhaps find somewhere decent for dinner?” The taller Nation suggested. His offer was met with an enthusiastic nod. The shared pastry hadn’t done much to sate either male’s growing hunger.
“Good,” Estonia said, satisfied that Latvia had been willing. “Are you happy you got to see your tree now?” He asked with good humor.
“Yes.” Latvia laughed softly. “And I’m even more glad that you came to see it with me.” He pressed a little kiss to Estonia’s cheek and started forward, leaving him without the umbrella. “Are you coming?” He asked with another bit of laughter, relishing the stunned look on the other Baltic’s face.
Estonia just shook his head, murmuring something to himself about the other being ‘such a child’ before starting off after him, not minding the rain so much anymore.
For myss-little-smartone -- "Die Weihnachtslieder"
Title: Die Weihnachtslieder
Recipient: myss-little-smartone
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1127 (1083 without lyrics)
Summary: A trudge in the snow and some reflections, bringing in the melodies of winter.
Author notes: Merry Christmas! I hope this fic was to your liking; I haven’t written about my OTP for quite a while!
The cold was no stranger to him. Here it was nice, April weather perhaps, maybe March. Despite the occasional sneeze - airplanes still did not agree with him much, though he used them often - he felt no need for particularly heavy clothes as he walked through the park, hands resolutely in pockets that shifted as he walked.
Eirikur was running a little early, which was better than a little late, because he knew she really couldn’t stand that. He started jogging, warming up as he reached the benches, past the children who looked more like mountains of sweaters than actual people. Winter flowers were few from what he saw, but there was no shortage of substitutes. Though he realized, a bit too late, that he probably should’ve brought something to this meeting.
She was sitting there already, under the usual pines. A festive touch had been added to those; red and gold ribbons decorating its branches, tiny golden bells swaying in the cold. Eva’s green eyes were focused wholly on her lap, where some unseen book, obscured from her multiple layers, nestled between gloved fingers.
“Hey—” Her eyes flickered towards him in slight surprise, the breathlessness in his voice causing her to giggle. Eirikur looked up in mock exasperation, both hands still on his knees. “C’mon, it was a long walk from the hotel…”
“I asked you to stay over, though,” the girl replied softly, raising a hand to her mouth. Still the same awkward self, he was—though she couldn’t say much different about herself. Eva indicated the empty spot next to her, motioning for him to sit. “So…”
“Sitting here for a couple of hours under the cold?” Eirikur stuck his tongue out comically, earning him another chuckle from the girl. “Isn’t there like an indoor skating rink or something we can go to? I’m sure you don’t want to freeze…—”
“Oh dear, no,” Eva shook her head. She stood up, patting the few specks of snow off her dress. The slightly numbing cold had made her more than a little bold, she figured, as they started walking back towards the streets. It was the first time the girl was walking in public with him—a date? A strand of hair came loose from under her wool cap, and she brushed it away absentmindedly; such thoughts should not be alien to any normal girl, but their situation wasn’t exactly ordinary to begin with.
Vaduz is small, more of a town than a city—but she knew he didn’t mind so much. There would be more to do in other places, but Eva didn’t want to risk running into her brother, regardless of his begrudging approval (which she didn’t need, she reminded him again and again) of her choice.
It wasn’t like they were dating.
“Do…do you want to go up to the castle?” She blurted out, and he turned to look at her with an odd glance. “I mean, it’s pretty. In the winter, you know.”
“Oh.” Well, it was better than sitting around in the snow. Which Eirikur would not mind so much if it weren’t something that he still had to look forward to when he went back. “Sure, if you want to? You’ve never taken me there before.”
“I haven’t—yes, it’s a good time to do so, I think.” She smiled at him brightly, and they started trudging up the road, uphill. Heart beating steadily faster, she touched her chest with mild surprise. Eirikur was looking at the tracks in the snow, and did not notice. “Oh, I can call a car if you want, but it’s nice walking up there, too. Not too far.”
“Mm? I’ll take your word for it, then.”
-
The hill was steeper than expected, but he was used to it—they both were. There had never been a shortage of mountains from where either of them came from, and this was a nice trek despite the increasingly biting wind. Eirikur was beginning to get a little hungry, but of course that was not something he should ask in the middle of a—a what?
Was this a date?
Jesus. He stuck his hands deeply into his pockets, following Eva up the road. Eyes focused resolutely on the winter wonderland around him, he started to notice specks of purple and blue dotted among the white. Sufficiently outside of town to have these flowers appear, he thought, but it wasn’t as if the town had been extremely urbanized to begin with. Eirikur was careful not to step on anything that seemed alive, though most of it grew far enough from his shoes. Eva did not seem to notice as she went, as their steps started to fall into pattern. Occasionally a squirrel would zip by, or a car come rumbling down the road, but for the most part it was quiet.
Only the wind and them, bringing about a silent alpine beauty to the landscape. Perhaps not so much appearing spontaneously but finally blooming from the hardship of winter; he remembered, snowdrops and her laughter. Eirikur reached forward for her sleeve, but the wind seemed to catch him by surprise, knocking it away. She looked back, eyes full of questioning.
“Oh, no, nothing…”
There was time for that, later.
-
It was late afternoon when they reached there, judging by the lighting—she looked back, and the town was spread out before them. Though the sky was mostly grey, there was a certain charm to the dim golden glow that came with the setting sun, flooding her vision with reflections from the snow.
Eirikur stood beside her; the brisk walk had warmed both of them up, so much so that he felt too warm in this jacket, even. Even if the sun would not warm up the sandy stones beneath their feet, this was enough…for now, anyway. He looked towards the shallow basin below, treetops covered with white and gold, soft maroon tiles, the bells—
“The bells,” she breathed. Tolling five o’clock, maybe, but neither of them had the time. All across town, amid the flurry of light snow that came billowing down from the mountaintops, joining the wind and whirling into the trees. He listened, trying to figure out the melody; abruptly something caught his hand, and Eirikur glanced down to a smaller one stealing into his. She wasn’t looking at him, no; there was only the town, the land.
There was the slightest tint of pink on her face. A strange determination that, through closer inspection, was not all so unfamiliar after all. That was, for him, enough. His hand closed, warm, swinging gently to the bells, the bells, the bells—
Kling, Glöckchen, klingelingeling!
Kling, Glöckchen, kling!
Laßt mich ein, ihr Kinder!
Ist so kalt der Winter!
Öffnet mir die Türen!
Laßt mich nicht erfrieren!
Kling, Glöckchen, klingelingeling!
Kling, Glöckchen, kling!
For sabishiiotakudesuyo -- "There's an Ocean Between Us"
Title: There’s an Ocean Between Us
Recipient: Sabishiiotakudesuyo
Rating: T
Warnings: Limb loss, Angst
Word Count: 1,584 words
Summary: It’s almost Christmas, and Alfred is a month overdue from when he’s supposed to come home. What will Arthur do? Will he spend Christmas Day alone, or will he get a special surprise? USUK. Human AU
Thirty days, six hours, ten minutes, and twenty-five seconds. He was supposed to be home the day before Thanksgiving.
Thirty days, six hours, ten minutes, and twenty-six seconds. But he wasn’t home.
Arthur had certainly known what he had gotten himself into when he had decided to go steady with a military man. He was a man by the name of Alfred F. Jones. He was a Navy man, one of the best there was, and he and Arthur had been close friends since Elementary school.
Oh, Arthur remembered that first day quite easily, actually..he had moved from England about a week before, and his parents had enrolled him into the Elementary school. If he remembered correctly, the name of the school was Stewart Elementary School..yes, that was it, and he had been around seven, at the time. Alfred was eight, a year ahead of him. He had been sitting alone on the playground, and Alfred ran up to him, all smiles and skinned up knees. Though, the first thing he had noticed about him was how many stains his shirt had. They were most likely from eating messily, and his Mum had always told him that a proper young man always ate with his mouth shut and was careful not to spill.
And, of course, first impressions were always important, weren’t they? Apparently they weren’t. At least, not to this boy, they weren’t. He had just sat himself right down next to Arthur and held his hand out, grinning widely. Arthur noted that there was a gap in his teeth, his glasses were askew, and there was a cowlick on his hair that didn’t seem to want to stay down. “Hey there!” the boy had said rather enthusiastically. “M’ name is Alfred! Alfred F. Jones, and, y’ see, ‘m a hero, and I noticed y’were sittin’ all by your lonesome! And heroes can’t let people be sad and lonely, so I rushed right over here!” He laughed, and the grin on his face grew even wider. “What’s your name? Y’new here?”
Arthur let out a slight sigh and fidgeted, frowning a bit. He was a bit uncomfortable..but Alfred certainly seemed to mean well. He slowly took his hand and shook it slowly before letting go and shrugging. “Arthur Kirkland, and yes, I am n-“
“Wow, you sure have a funny accent!” Alfred had interjected, laughing and clapping his hands. “Where are you from?”
“Hmph. Yours is rather funny yourself!” he shot back, lower lip stuck out slightly in a pout. “I’m from London. In England.”
“Whoaaa! So you’re from across the pond, yeah? What’s it like there?” Alfred had asked rather excitedly, and they were really inseparable after that, spending everyday on the playground with each other.
There was the occasional spat, of course, as all growing friends had. Their silliest one, though, had to be when they were in ninth grade. Freshmen (Alfred had failed a grade so he could be with Arthur). Alfred had begun to talk to the more ‘popular’ folk, and he started ignoring Arthur all together. Arthur had confronted him about it in front of the whole school, in the lunch room, and they didn’t speak for about a month before Alfred had walked up to him one day in gym and sheepishly apologized. Arthur had huffed and said he would accept it if Alfred bought him tea every morning for the rest of the year.
Inseparable.
Though, truly, the scariest moment he had with Alfred was probably when they were seniors in High School. Arthur had had a crush on Alfred for a long while now, since seventh grade, and he was just now getting the guts to tell him. He was frightened of his reaction, though. What if Alfred didn’t feel the same? It would surely ruin their friendship, he knew, but he had worked up the courage to tell him anyway.
It was a month before they would graduate, and Arthur had walked up to Alfred right after school. He slowly told Alfred everything. Exactly how he felt, and the silence between them seemed to last forever, at first, before Alfred laughed slightly and shook his head, saying how relieved he felt. He felt the same about Arthur, but wasn’t sure if he should tell him, and he was glad that Arthur had said something first, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything.
Their relationship was rather nice, sweet. People said things, of course, but that was to be expected. They were happy together, and that was really at that mattered, wasn’t it? Of course it was. It wasn’t until they were sophmores in college that Alfred decided he wanted to be in the Navy, much to Arthur’s distaste. He was..frightened. Yes, he was very frightened. What if Alfred died and never came home? Arthur did make these opinions known, and Alfred had said it would all be alright, but Arthur didn’t believe him. How could it possibly be alright when Alfred had the risk of dying every second? Needless to say, the conversation quickly escalated into an argument, and they didn’t speak to each other for a week.
But, luckily, Alfred called Arthur and apologised, though Arthur told him it was mostly his fault for even making it something bigger than what it was in the first place. They met up. Kissed. Hugged. And they were happy again.
And right now, Arthur was completely terrified. It was a month after Alfred was due home, and it was almost Christmas. Christmas Eve, to be exact, and Alfred still wasn’t here. No word of how he was doing had come to him. Not a single letter, nothing on the news. Anything. Arthur was worried. Worried that he would never see his Alfred again.
Sighing softly, he swirled his tea around his cup and glanced up at his clock. Eleven fifty-nine..wonderful. It looked like he’d be spending Christmas alone this year, even though Alfred had promised he’d be home. He bit his lip slightly and pulled Alfred’s jacket tighter around himself, taking in the familiar scent of the cologne he usually wore. It’d be alright..Alfred would be home soon..
He was slowly beginning to doze off after that, but he jumped, hearing the doorbell ring. “Who on Earth..?” he muttered, setting his tea cup down and walking over to the door, opening it and huffing. “Why the hell are you at my door at this time of ni-” But he was cut off by a soft laugh, soon followed by a familiar voice.
“Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”
A soft gasp escaped Arthur’s lips, and he looked up, dropping his cup and swallowing heavily. Right there, standing in front of him, was Alfred. The man that he’d been missing for a long time. “A-Al..Alfred..Alfred-!” He cried out and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, awaiting the familiar, warm embrace. But only one arm wrapped around him in return. Just one. Frowning slightly, Arthur glanced over to where Alfred’s other arm should have been…but it wasn’t.
”..Alfred..”
“Now, Artie, before y’freak out-” Alfred started, but Arthur was already shaking his head, eyes wide.
“Wh..what the hell happened to your arm, Alfred-?!” the Brit stuttered out, tears slipping down his face. “Y..you..is this why you’re a month late?”
“Well..yeah..I..there was an explosion in our ship, and..well..let’s just say I barely made it out with my life and lost my arm in the process.” He sighed, adjusting his glasses a bit. “But..I’m alive, right? That’s all that matters..”
“But you almost died! I..Alfred, I told you this was a terrible idea!” Arthur let out a pained noise and slunk to the ground, soft sobs escaping his lips. “I can’t believe this! This is why you don’t join the damn Navy. You almost died, I almost lost you, I cannot-” And he just kept going on an on while Alfred pulled him up and into another embrace, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to his stubborn Englishman rant on and on.
“Arthur..”
”..And what if I did lose you? What the hell would I say at the the funeral-“
“Arthur.”
“Oh, yes, my boyfriend died in an explosion and all that-“
“Arthur!”
“And even if you did die, god dammit-“
“ARTHUR! Just shut up for a sec’, yeah?”
Arthur blinked and nodded, going quiet and sighing a bit as he leaned against him, just listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
”..See..I could’ve died, but I didn’t, y’know? I was lucky, I was real fucking lucky, but I’m here..and..well, I can’t really be in the Navy anymore with only one arm..” the American muttered, chuckling a bit. “So..I’m here to stay.”
Arthur blinked and looked up at him, raising a brow. “…You’re serious?”
“As serious as I can ever be, darlin’.”
“…You’re not leaving ever again?”
“Not as long as I’m breathin’, sweetheart.”
“…Oh thank god!” Arthur cried out happily, flinging his arms around his lover and pressing their lips together, tears slipping down his face. Too long had he been without Alfred..without his kisses, his love…and he wasn’t leaving again! This had to be the most wonderful Christmas gift he had ever received in his whole life.
“Merry Christmas, sugar plum..” Alfred muttered against Arthur’s lips as he stumbled inside with him, shutting the door.
This would most certainly be a Christmas to remember.
Title: October23
Recipient: Baily a.k.a shinythingsandanimeboys
Rating: PG
Warnings: Characters death
Word Count: 1,223
Summary: October 23 2011 is the day that change his life forever; Fem!Austria and Prussia fic.
Author notes: Sorry I know you wanted fluff. Merry Christmas!
October 23, 2011 is the day that he’ll never forget how his life changed forever...
Hello, I am Anneliese. Today is Gilbert’s opening party for his photography shop. Yes, you hear it right; he’s a photographer—a good one, I’d say! We first met accidentally at the city of love—Paris. Let me tell you the story.
— o O o —
The first thing I saw when I awoke was Paris’ top view from the aircraft I was flying in on. The beautiful view of France’s capital opened up before me. What a good start! It’s all Eliza’s scheme. Eliza and I are workmates. She won a ticket to France in a random bet somewhere, but she couldn’t use it—that’s why she gave it to me. I could still remember her cheery face saying, ‘Anne, have this ticket! Go to France, have a little fun. Sorry I can’t join; I have to go in the next comic con! Bye!’ after she said that, she ran so fast I couldn’t reject it.
Why not? I thought. That’s why I’m here now. City with a dazzling lights, eye catcher parks, world class buildings, monuments, fade less fashion, magnificent tasty cuisine and treats, flowery language and never ending rich cultures and traditions. I think I made a nice decision.
After checking out the airport, I stayed at the hotel just near the airport to rest. I was very tired by that point, so I called it a night.
The bright sun greeted me, from the small gap between the windows of my room. I reached for my glasses then my phone. 10:45, not bad. Well, I was on vacation, no worries. I immediately dressed and headed out into the lively city of Paris.
A cozy morning greeted me as I walked around, checking out the shops and cafes as I went. After choosing one in particular and ordered, I sat down at a table outside the shop and started to read a book. Everything was fine; it was relaxing, but I had a problem. As I have traveled alone, no one was there to guide me throughout Paris. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to visit all the places I wanted to visit before the time came for me to return home. I sighed; I hadn’t really prepared all that well...
Click, click. Was that a sound of a camera? I didn’t mind, it might have been just another tourist taking pictures. Click. Then I heard another one, and I immediately turned around for the source of the sound. A man with short, light-colored hair and strange red eyes held a camera aimed right at me. He noticed that I was looking, promptly turned around, and took pictures of the cafés instead. I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely. Was he taking pictures of me? I tried to ignore him, but after a few more moments of it, I just couldn’t.
Observing him silently, I acted as if I didn’t pay him any mind. Deciding to just leave, I stood up after paying the waiter, and walked to the park across the street; he followed. Whenever I looked back, he would hide or do something else as if to cover up the fact he was blatantly trailing me. I walked to a tree and paused, waiting. He followed me without thinking, and just as he rounded the tree, I grabbed his camera which surprised both of us really.
“Sorry to bother you, Miss, but—“
“—return the camera?” I added. This man had a strong German accent I noted. Scratching the back of his neck, he answered shyly, “Yes…”
I pressed the review button of his camera. There were photos of a bird—a yellow bird to be exact, Paris, cafés and of me, “So, I was right,” I muttered. Getting embarrassed, the German dragged me to a café close by. There seemed to be one on around every corner almost.
“I’ll explain.”
He said he’d been in Paris for more than a year now. He’s a photographer. He’s in a contest which was why he was taking pictures, more or less. The man said he didn’t mean to take one of me, “I apologize,” he looked awfully sincere, placing his hands together, “Please, please forgive me?”
“Fine, I’ll forgive you—” he grinned, “—On one condition. Be my tour guide. Introduce me to France.”
He guffawed rather loudly, “No problem! Let’s start again; my name is Gilbert Beilschmidt—but you can call me Gil,” and he, Gilbert, extended his arm, gesturing for a hand shake. I grasped his lightly, something of a smile tugging at my lips.
“My name is Anneliese Edelstein. Nice to meet you, Gil.”
— o O o —
I hurried to my car, checking the time, 10:00AM—Damn, I'm late.
And that’s when Gil called, “Where are you?”
I held the phone between my shoulder and ear, fiddling with the keys to unlock the door, “I just got in the car.”
“What?” he exclaimed; the line cut. Great, he was annoyed now. He’s always like that when he’s disappointed. I should hurry up, but there was one place that I needed to stop by first.
His favorite café. Since we started dating, he always told me about that place. He brought me there a year ago when he proposed to me. I was surprised, I just thought it was just an ordinary snack he was holding up, but no—he did it. He kneed down and opened the ring box. I could remember that day clearly. September 23, 2010.
“Will you marry me, Anne?” he said looking up to me, a hopeful glean in his eyes. My eyes filled with tears of joy, overflowing until they spilled down my cheeks. I hugged him, repeatedly saying, “I will, I will…” and we shared a kiss.
That was the most memorable day of my life, and it happened in that very café. I hopped out of the car, hurried out, and entered the café in a rush. The cashier greeted me as I picked up the cake I ordered prior, and waved as I exited just as fast. As I got in the car again, my phone rang. It was Gil—no surprise there.
I pressed the talk button, preparing for the worse, “Where are you?” the tone of his voice was all but displeased.
“I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” I sighed, fixing my seat belt.
“What? The program is starting now! If you can’t make it on time, don’t come at all,” I could practically see the scowl on his face.
“But Gil—“ I tried to explain, but he had already hung up. I checked my phone; I had 4 missed calls from him, “Fine!” I cried and threw the phone carelessly.
Inhale, exhale. I breathed heavily and reached for my keys to start the engine. I stepped on the accelerator and dashed my way through the surprisingly sparse traffic. I could make it if I hurried...
I desperately reached for my phone at the back seat.
I needed to call Gil.
I had only taken my eyes off the road for a second—
October 21, 2011 is the day he’ll never forget. Anneliese died in a car accident while going to the opening ceremony of his photography shop.
For tomatoredstains -- "One, Two, Three Bottles of Vodka"
Title: One, Two, Three Bottles of Vodka
Recipient: tomatoredstains
Rating: PG
Warnings: A few cuss words.
Word Count: 813
Summary: Ivan drinks 3 bottles of vodka while reflecting on Alfred. One-sided RusAme.
Author’s notes: I wasn’t sure where I was going with this, and also I don’t have much experience with RusAme, but I hope this turned out okay.
It ran over his tongue, strong, bitter, cold. It didn’t matter if it was cheap vodka or good vodka. The important thing was that it burned. It burned his insides and made him feel warm all over. Ivan loved vodka. Ivan loved warmth.
Alfred was rambling about something unimportant. Ivan didn’t feel like hearing what he had to say today. He instead focused on the American words coming out of his mouth, the ups and downs of his loud voice, and how they carelessly tumbled out, one after another. He clung to that voice.
Alfred had many friends. He went around like the sun, attracting others with his bright earnest. He was excessively nosy, but he had a big heart. They didn’t get along, but Alfred was warm and Ivan grew to like him. He wanted more of that warmth.
He tried everything to keep his attention. He was clingy, he followed him around, he gave him little comments on the little things he did. He found that the best way was to argue with him. It was refreshing to see the American’s liveliness when they annoyed each other. There were also rare moments where they got along, and for once it felt like Alfred was friends with Ivan too, and not just Ivan was friends with Alfred.
Maybe he should try having more peaceful conversations with Alfred.
Well, as long as he had his attention.
One and a half bottles of vodka.
A past conversation.
“Dude, I err… need your help.”
“Hello Alfred, how may I help you?”
“Hey, what are you doing? Stop giving me that creepy smile.”
“Do you not need my help?”
“No! I, um, need you to tutor me for Math.”
“This is rare. You have never come to me for help before.”
“I didn’t know anybody else who wasn’t failing the subject. Now, stop smiling like that and help me.”
“Of course. We can compare notes first.”
“Yeah, whatever – hey, what are you doing?”
“You have an interesting iPod. I have never seen this before.”
“Kiku made it for me. He’s awesome with this kind of stuff. Hey, what are you doing? Give it back!”
“It’s perfectly fine, da? Eh, what–“
“No, wait. Hey, what are you doing? Stop–“
“…”
“What the fuck did you just do!?”
“You were the one who pushed me.”
“Kiku worked on it for months and you threw it out of the window!”
“Alfred, be reasonable. It was partly your fault, too.”
“No! How the hell does it fly so far? You totally threw it!”
“I didn’t throw it.”
“This wouldn’t even have happened if you hadn’t touched my iPod!”
“Alfred–“
“No. Just no, man. You fucking killed my one-of-a-kind iPod. I don’t want to see your face anymore. Freakin’ commie.”
“Alfred, I’m sorry–“
Slam.
Hey, what are you doing?
Two bottles of vodka.
(“Why do you like sunflowers so much anyways?” “You keep drawing them. Weirdo.” “It’s probably a communist conspiracy plan to take over the world using sunflowers.” “Oh! I know a place where they grow sunflowers here! I’ll show you someday. In the summer.”)
He remembers his scarf, soft around his eyes on a warm summer day, like a blindfold. He remembers Alfred’s hand, warm against his own, pulling and guiding him in his darkness. His voice pulled the scarf away from his eyes, and oh –sunny, bright, and yellow, turned to face him as if he was the sun. His beloved sunflowers.
He remembers the bright yellow, harsh and piercing, but he kept his eyes open anyway, because he had to. He remembered the warm sun casting yellow in his eyes, and Alfred. Alfred – with his easy grin, with the wind whipping through his hair and clothes – like a superhero. Alfred – with his yellow. Alfred, summer, and sunflowers.
And yellow.
Yellow, yellow, so much yellow.
It was a yellow day.
Three bottles of vodka.
Ivan opened his eyes again to the dim glow of the nightclub. Alfred was gone. Alfred was gone, and he felt cold. He reached for his vodka, to feel warm again, but found that it was empty.
He was wearing a scarf, but it was cold, so cold.
Why won’t you pay attention to me?
There was an ache in his chest. It squeezed painfully, stung his eyes and threatened to wrench itself out of his chest.
I want you to smile at me always.
He wanted really badly, Alfred’s warmth. He probably didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it. But he also wanted Alfred to keep smiling like he always did.
But he would never smile at him. After all, Alfred hated him.
Smile at me.
He was like the darkness which longed for the sun, but would vanquish its fire if it got too close to it.
Title: Morning Rountine
Recipient: lovelymissdaisy/Kirsten
Rating: T
Warnings: So much fluff ^O^
Word Count: 834
Summary: A typical morning with Antonio and Lovino.
Author notes: Sorry, if it's not what you expected, I tried my best. >.<
“Why did you wake me up?”
Antonio simply smiled, “Good morning to you, too,” he quickly pecked the Italian’s soft cheek.
Lovino’s face flushed redder than a tomato, “What was that for!” he exclaimed, embarrassed.
Antonio only smiled, “Come on, let’s get ready,” Lovino wiped his lips with his pajama’s sleeve; he followed after the tall, shirtless Spanish man. Lovino couldn’t help but stare at Antonio’s toned abs and well defined arms that embraced him in his sleep.
The two walked into the bathroom, their hands brushing against each other’s.
“S-stop touching me, b-bastardo!” Lovino snatched his purple toothbrush off the counter and began to furiously brush his teeth.
Antonio laughed softly, “Amor?”
Lovino furrowed his eyebrows, “What!”
The Spanish man held up the toothpaste, “You forgot something,” Lovino blushed and he suddenly snatched the toothbrush away from Antonio.
“I-I know!” He squirted a fair amount on his brush and began to furiously brush his teeth again.
“Whoa, slow down, you don’t want to push in your teeth,” Lovino growled softly at the man who was clearly trying to make fun of him, at least that's what he thought--
“I know how to brush my teeth, dammit!” but even so, the Italian man continued to brush his teeth in his OWN way. Eventually, the two nations finished brushing their teeth.
“Amor?”
Lovino rolled his eyes, “What now?” Antonio placed a finger under the small Italian’s chin, making him look up into Antonio’s green eyes, his minty lips placed on Lovino’s own soft, equally minty lips.
“Mmph!” Lovino let out a little, cute whimper, his hands clawed into Antonio’s back.
“Ouch!” exclaimed the Spanish man.
Lovino pulled away, his cheeks flushed red, “Well, I couldn’t breathe!”
Antonio smiled, “Aw, lo siento, you tasted so minty~” Lovino blushed even more and walked out of the bathroom.
“Well, whatever, I’m hungry; go make me something to eat!” Lovino sat on the bed and crossed his arms, looking away from Antonio.
“What would you like to eat, amor~?” asked Antonio, sliding on a plain white shirt.
“Tomatoes, duh!” replied Lovino, still not wanting to look at Antonio.
“If I prepare you some tomatoes, will you look at me?”
Lovino looked down and mumbled, “Yeah sure, whatever.”
Antonio smiled; his smile seemed to be the only one thing that illuminated the room with light, “I’ll come get you when the food is ready,” and with that, the happy and the oh-so-in-love Spanish man made his way downstairs, towards the kitchen. He got everything he needed and began to prepare his and Lovino’s breakfast.
Lovino curiously made his way downstairs; the smell of fresh food filled the air. His stomach rumbled, causing him to walk into the kitchen. “Amor, the food’s not ready yet.”
Lovino looked down, “I know, I just wanted.. to know if you needed any help,” Antonio almost dropped the pan that had his scrambled eggs.
He smiled warmly at his Italian lover, “I’d love that.”
For the next few minutes, Antonio taught Lovino how to scramble eggs, how to cook bacon, and how to make freshly squeezed orange juice. Of course, there was a bit of a mess, but Antonio was more than happy to clean after his messy Italian.
As they ate, Lovino furrowed his eyebrows at the eating Spanish man.
“Something wrong?” Lovino felt himself blush; he hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring at Antonio.
“Nothing!” He chomped down on his fork that had a bit of scrambled eggs.
“Woah, slow down, you’ll get a stomache--”
“Shut up! I know how to eat!” Antonio only responded with a smile, making Lovino blush even more, “And where are my tomatoes!” The Spanish man made a ripe, red tomato appear from under the table.
“Here, amor,” Lovino extended his hand out towards him.
“Well then, give it,” Antonio smiled and pointed to his lips.
“Pay up, Lovi,” Lovino’s mouth gaped open.
“Are you serious!” Antonio nodded, Lovino growled under his breath, he bravely stood up, made his way towards the cocky Spanish man and firmly placed his lips on the other's. The firm kiss sent sparks all over Lovino’s body; he slowly pulled away and looked down at the smirking Spanish man. “What’s so funny?”
Antonio smiled, brushing his thumb on Lovino’s small lips, “Nothing, I just didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Lovino began to blush, he snatched the tomato out of the Spanish man’s hand, and his words echoed throughout the house.
Title: First Kiss
Recipient: jingle-potato-jingle-potato / mediterranean-princess
Rating: T
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1,094
Summary: Egypt loses his cat, Cyprus helps him find her, and Turkey loves teasing Cyprus.
Title: To Be Touched
Recipient: theproblemwithindecision
Rating: T
Warnings: Not really anything, just innuendo. Yuri pairing, there's a male/male couple included.
Word Count: 549
Summary: Michelle picks up her girlfriend from work, feeling needs in the middle of her adventure.
Author notes: I'm sorry if you didn't like it, Elizabeth, I know I could've done much better. I remember hearing that Monaco was a French colony before gaining independence so I thought it would fit having France be her dad. I didn't spend nearly as much time on this as I could have but I'm a procrastinator and there's no other excuse.
Michelle walked down the sidewalk, her beige over coat and long chestnut hair flowing in the breeze, her heels clapping on the concrete. She passed stores and shops on the main boulevard of town, searching for a particular place. The place Cécile would be.
Cécile: her light skinned, bright haired girlfriend of 8 months. Their relationship was healthy. They saw each other often, Michelle walking Cécile from her job in her father's cafe to wherever they'd be going that night. Her walking continued as she smiled to herself at the thought of Cécile What had she done to deserve her? Michelle didn't know. But they were both happy, and that's what she enjoyed. Michelle formed a large grin on her face, not caring about the stares from the people passing her by.
She finally arrived at the cafe: Saveurs de Paris. Cécile's father, Francis, owned and managed the cafe with the help of her and his son Matthew. All the recipes are his, the decor is beautiful, and it's the most popular place in their small town. Michelle walked into the building.
Immediately as she walked in, Michelle was hit with waves of both aromas and energy. The strong aromas from the different spices and ingredients used to make all the unique creations they, as a family, make together. The energy from all the young high school and college students hustling and bustling within. Michelle made every step cautiously, making her way through the cafe, attempting to make it to the front counter without knocking into people or their tables. Mission successful.
Cécile looked up from the register, her sea-foam eyes through her eye glasses. No word was spoken between them, only each others smiles. Cécile took off her apron and walked into the back room, her sand colored braid becoming airborne while turning. “Papa!!” she called out, “Michelle's here! I'm clocking off!”
Michelle waited patiently at the counter, looking around at the people in the cafe. She saw one couple, a brown haired female with a white haired male. They had drinks, and were laughing holding hands. Michelle smiled at their happiness. Another couple, two males were simply staring into each other's eyes, smiling. One was of obvious Asian decent, with dark chocolate hair reaching slightly below his neck, a curl on the left side of his head. His partner had light blond hair, a cowlick on his right side. Both of these couples look so cute, Michelle thought, reminding her of Cécile. Do Cécile and I look the same way to others? she pondered. That's when she felt it. That need. That need to be touched.
Cécile walked out of the back room just then, wearing a beige skirt and white blouse. Her normal attire, “Where are we going tonight?” she asked.
Michelle looked at her confused, unable to complete the thought she had started. “We're going... to...” Michelle stuttered. She shook her head, attempting to think clearer. Michelle grabbed her partners hand, leading her out of the cafe, “My flat,” Michelle said, “We're going to my flat.”
Cécile looked at her awkwardly. Then she realized. Cécile followed along side her partner, ready for the events to occur, “May I spend the night?” Cécile questioned in a seductive manner.
Michelle gazed at Cécile, “You really need an invitation?”
For hetaliamayhem -- "A Miracle On Fremont Street"
Title: A Miracle On Fremont Street
Recipient: Shay/hetaliamayhem
Rating: T
Warnings: Only rated T for Lovino's mouth.
Word Count: 2,128
Summary: Lovino always hated the snow. And, due to Fremont street's 'invisible barrier' that somehow blocked out snow and cold fronts, the Italian decided to move there. He always hated snow with a passion, after all. That is, until a cheerful Spaniard moved into the house across the street.
Author Notes: I just want to wish you a happy holidays! Hope you like the fic!
Title: Lace and Bows
Recipient: paigesareinthebooks
Rating: M? I dunno, nothing was really that specific.
Warnings: Insinuated sex.
Word Count: 816
Summary: Francis and Kiku's quirky sexual relationship.
Author notes: My writing tends to be really whimsical, but I do hope it's something enjoyable!
Kiku supposed he had anticipated the deviation from his own, the lace, silk, fishnets, garter belts, heels--ah, Francis had went out of his way. It should be duly noted that no, the representation of Japan was far from chaste. His expressions of sexuality were merely not as open as that of his Western friends.
The bath before contact, the subtle touches, the flirtations without flirtation, they were all his ways. Francis seemed a near opposite, with his open displays of romance, of desires, of wants. Such polarities, and yet they were equally as eccentric when the doors were closed.
Francis, for his part, would accept their sort of private relations. He was not the shouting American, nor the sarcastic Englishman. For as much of an alley cat as he could be portrayed as, few had been as caring for his needs as Francis. Kiku supposed he fantasized of the other more often than he should have. Oui-aboo.
And the Frenchman did enjoy his time with Kiku, for there were few that were as mentally stimulated as himself. The "whore," he could be called, and yet the question of if few saw his Asian lover as being much more than an eccentric sort of flower was ever present. Amérique, Angleterre, how fickle they could often be.
Their trysts were often sensual, a word few would perhaps use to describe the usually reserved Kiku. Thoughts were spoken, in both of their languages, as the feathers of a duster ran over warm skin, eliciting goosebumps. There would be laughter, when a ticklish spot was reached, French mispronounced in the most adorable of ways from the mouth of the night's maid.
They would dance, the servant and the master, expensive lace thoughtlessly ripped; it could always be replaced. A broken heel of a shoe, seams ripped, sounds of passion awaking the neighbors. Long fingers wrapping themselves around blond waves; such a vibrant color, blond, the blue eyes. Kiku himself was beautiful, in these moments of abandon. But Kiku was always beautiful, truly.
When the completion was achieved, they would fall asleep together, on a soft canopied bed beneath silken sheets on some nights, a firm futon on others. No amount of bathing could truly erase the powerful French cologne, nor the subtle scent of cherry blossoms. Photographs that had not been taken with the true photographer's fingers would be found on the memory card at a later date. It was a tradition, to leave Kiku stuttering. Oh no, that was not him.
It had to seem an oddity, that they could share the most bizarre of fantasies with each other, and yet behave as though these intimacies never happened. Alfred did not know, nor did Arthur. Faithfulness was not an act often practiced by nations as old as themselves. Nor was chastity. Friendly chatter and video games throughout the day, Kiku's cheeks flushed the brightest of pinks when anything sexual was brought to his attention--Yuriko's skirt is hiked up awfully high in that frame--and yet they existed as different people when alone.
2D was not as good as 3D.
And tomorrow, the smaller man would perhaps once more attire himself in the tattered remains of the maid cosplay, paying no mind to any stains as he busied himself at the stove, preparing a breakfast for them. Fluffy eggs, omelets he had worked hard to perfect. They were no where near the perfection of the true thing, and yet Francis would still rave of the l'amour he could taste in the meal. When Kiku would attempt to repeat the word, the results were always quite the hilarity, "ra-mo-ru."
They discussed many things; serious topics, silly chatter. Ah, how they could both go on about his anime! The man that was France could be quite fascinating, a gentleman, and yet quite the "fanboy" at the same time. Francis was quite excited about the revival of Sailor Moon, to Kiku's delight. The series had been quite popular in France during the 1990s. Very well, Kiku remembered enjoying the "dub" in that nation, the French soundtrack quite appealing in particular.
The thoughts of Tuxedo Kamen and Sailor Moon hentai would best leave the Asian's mind before it became reality.
For lying-onthefloor -- "of years passed and years to come"
Title: of years passed and years to come
Recipient: lying-onthefloor
Rating: pg, i should think
Warnings: nnnnone
Word Count: 1,052
Summary: France and England share a *~heartwarming~* chat on the rooftop. Or as heartwarming as they can get.
Author notes: idk man i hope this is what you had in mind?? uwu;
It is still quiet, too, when France pads quietly up from the staircase and settles beside England, looking graceful as ever even in stillness. Quiet as he exhales, watching his breath curl into the air like England’s cigarette smoke.
“I thought the mood had lightened in there,” is what he says finally, casting a small smile in England’s direction — smug as ever, which is France’s default setting as much as brooding is England’s. “I confess it took me a while to notice it over Amérique’s… energy. Your absence, that is. One would hardly guess that you raised him, the way he carries on… but then, there is something of you in him after all, isn’t there; once you get to talking, it’s hard to shut you up, too.”
England glances sourly at his rooftop companion. “And you are better, is that right?”
“The difference is that when I speak, the things I say are important.”
“France, at the last meeting you went on for ten minutes about your foray into the world of the laptop, which was not only ridiculously trivial but quite successful in showing us all just how behind the times you are.”
“And you are the biggest champion for change there is, aren’t you, Angleterre?” From somewhere behind them there is the sound of glass breaking, and of several people shouting — whether it is in celebration or dismay isn’t readily apparent but England tries very hard to ignore it, instead promising himself he’ll pursue retribution for whatever dish he must mourn at a later time. In the meantime France plucks his cigarette away with deft fingers and takes a drag from it himself before dropping it and grinding it into the ground with a very well-cut shoe. Arthur, predictably, is less than pleased.
“Was that entirely necessary, France,” he hisses, aiming a glare straight at him.
“I think you’ll find,” France returns easily, “that I have done you a favor just now. After all, were you not trying to quit? Anyway you really must learn to share. After so many years, one would think you might have learnt… Alas! You really cannot teach an old dog new tricks, can you?”
“I can recall a certain ten-minute conversation…”
France grumbles under his breath, something rude and obscene and French. “Point taken.”
“Why’d you come up, anyway?” England asks after a brief lull in the conversation. He’s beginning to regret having come up without a coat; France, the bastard, seems very smug as he pulls his up higher and tucks his fingers into his sleeves, as if conscious of the way England is shivering even though he’s no longer looking at him. Instead his gaze drifts towards the skyline, towards the lights of London and the festivities below. Now he only rolls his shoulders in a lazily elegant shrug.
“Like I said, I noticed you’d left. I thought perhaps something was the matter.”
“And of course you simply had to remedy it.”
“Actually,” says France, “it is usually the rule that I am here to exacerbate any and all problems you may encounter, no matter how banal.”
England turns and looks at him, and — wonder of wonders — smiles. “You’re doing an excellent job, then.”
“And what of you? Surely you cannot have tired of your company already.” The way he says it indicates that he has also grown tired of it.
“What do you think?” England sighs, heavy and weary. “It gets to be far too loud around this time… I can hardly keep up with them anymore, really… So young, compared to us.”
“Not that young,” France grumbles, pouting and shrugging his shoulders again.
“Young enough to make us look like old men by comparison, at least.”
“Speak for yourself.” Now France laughs wryly and shakes his head, blond waves swaying to and fro (and into England’s mouth — England sputters and spits it out, wondering how he’d gotten so damn close). “Still, I think it’s nice. They’ve so much energy… I wonder if they’ll ever be as old and tired as us.”
“Old, I’m sure. But not tired; things have changed, I think. Perhaps we just belong to some different age.”
“Perhaps.” Then France looks at England and thinks he might kiss him then, that he could and England would not object. But he thinks also that this is not the time, that it could ruin things and England looks strange in the fading night lights of London, something unworldly and not at all corporeal. As if a touch could make him dissolve into some cool fog of counterfeit innocence and too many years of idle thoughts.
So France does not kiss England, and what he does instead is take hold of his sleeve and pull him a little closer in hopes that the warmth will pass to him and stop his shaking. England, too proud to acknowledge it even though it’s eased the bite somewhat, simply falls limply into him and continues to watch the cars sweep below them with swishs and quiet murmuring of wheels on the slightly wet roads.
“Another age…” France murmurs again, and listens to the passage of time.
