language: english ,,, words: 650 ,,, category: fluff/ref to smut ,,,
as tagged on ao3 :
extra tags: ireswiss ,, got my friend to beta read for the first time ever cus i never get my friends to beta read and she said it was good!!!!!!! ,, Cross-Posted on Tumblr ,, Fluff ,, Implied/Referenced Sex ,, Aftercare ,, Comfort ,, Comfort No Hurt ,, Cuddling & Snuggling, Care, written at 11pm-1am across 2 nights ,, Ireland ,, Switzerland
warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
With nail scratches still stinging in his back, Ireland rested against the mattress for the first time since getting on top of the swiss man a while ago. His cheek brushed against the pillow as he turned to look at Switzerland, whose tremors hadn’t worn off yet; his shoulder-length, blond hair.. his piercing green eyes.. his lean but muscular figure that looked somewhat cute from above (given their height difference). He found that his will couldn’t stop the hand that reached out to trace some of the old battle scars on his shoulder. Nor could his will stop the words that he most certainly over-used.
“I love you. I love you so much, a chroi..”
Switzerland’s arm flexed under the touch of calloused fingertips. His eyes darted from the ceiling of his lover’s apartment, to Ireland, then swiftly back to the ceiling. The red tint that was just beginning to fade crept back up into his ears, that practically shone like traffic lights against his pale skin and blond hair.
“Ich han… dich gern…”
The whispered german was barely audible but there nonetheless.
Then there was quiet; quiet comfort in the presence of somebody one trusts. For someone as emotionally inept as Switzerland, who detested awkward silences and tenderness, this sort of comfort was a lovey-dovey hell.
Ireland traced the swiss man’s arm all the while, paused at the hand, and lifted it to kiss. There was something he enjoyed about seeing Switzerland unable to deal with fluster. Not that he took pleasure in the other’s pain, of course!- but watching the calm, ironclad façade begin to weaken painted the swiss man in humanistic light.
It made Ireland smile.
“Y’ alright, a stóirín?”
“Yes. Fine.”
Then Switzerland made a halfhearted attempt to roll over, but sleepily found a midway point where his face was looking at the wall and his body angled in Ireland’s direction but still with his back to the irish man; a position that would undoubtedly cause him much neck pain in the coming hours if he were to sleep like that. He felt Ireland’s thumb between his shoulder blades, gentle but firm, kneading at and working out whatever knots had formed since they’d last had the chance to have eachother like this.
Ireland felt oddly, almost abandoned, when faced with Switzerland’s back. He wouldn’t seriously just roll over and sleep.. would he..? His voice adopted a sort of whiny tone.
“Talk to me, honey..?”
It came off as less of a request and more of a polite plead, but it was enough to provoke the stiff swiss man to turn, if only slightly, and admit, in a rare moment of vulnerability; moments like which came as often as a comet, “..I’m not yet used to the… aftercare….”
“Ah, c’mere… It’s like cuddling, only after-… y’know…” Ireland chuckled to himself, as he knew that Switzerland had a habit of short-circuiting at the mention (or even at the implication) of words such as “sex”.
Switzerland shifted backwards into Irelands arm, that wrapped around his waist and whose hand rubbed circles into his hip while the other hand untangled some knots in his hair, absentminded with cloudy, sleepy bliss.
“Now…”, which was Ireland’s version of “there we go!”, which made the tension in Switzerland’s shoulders ease. He hummed contentedly with his cheek pressed into the larger man’s bicep.
“All settled? You need anything?”, and Ireland was back to his usual hostly manner. Switzerland responded with something that may have been “No, just stay here” as he prepared for sleep, but he woke up a little when he heard the mention of hot chocolate being on offer. It only became more enticing when Ireland noted that he’d picked up cream and marshmallows today.
“Alright.” Switzerland had decided. “But hurry back!… And thank you.”
And Ireland left with a sweet kiss on the forehead and a quiet smile that assured; “anything.”
