[Fic] The First Kiss
Title: The First Kiss Characters: Brazil and Portugal GENDERBEND Summary: When the little girl looked up at her, Portugal just stared.
When the little girl looked up at her, Portugal just stared. She wasn't as surprised as she probably should be. She had heard about them, these children from the new world, and she had been sure she would be one of the first to find them, because this land was too vast and too fertile, and who knew what treasures would be hidden inside the forest, behind that dense wall of green. She had been looking around when they came, the people from this land, proud and naked – she had watched in fascination until she remembered her own people watching and forced herself to look away – when the girl came to the front. She was this tiny beautiful little thing, huge eyes shadowed by dark eyelashes and black hair flowing around her face, decorated with feathers, colorful necklaces and paint all over her small body. No one said anything. But Portugal recognized her, knew her for what she was, this little... idea of a nation, a fragile thing of hope and luck and dreams. So she stared. The girl stared back, holding tightly to her bow and the arrow, dark eyes wide open. Portugal made a small, authoritative gesture. The little girl lowered her arrow. Portugal smiled, kneeling on the sand, and called her again, and this time the girl came, and touched her hair and her cheeks and the golden cross on her neck, and then tried to take one of her own necklaces to put it around Portugal's neck, and talked. All the time. Portugal thought she was making questions, or trying to explain her own jewelry – if that's what they were – or maybe a mix of both, it could be anything. She pressed her finger against the girl's lip, but then the girl tried to hold her hand to see her her rings, yapping excitedly at them and tried to take one away. Portugal didn't let her. She got up, holding the girl on her arms, and watched as her people talked to the girl's people, somehow finding the way to each other, and they spread over the shore. For a few seconds the girl struggled against her hold, and then she gave up, cuddled up and laid her head on Portugal's shoulder. So warm, and small. And frail. Like a little piece of china, like something precious and so easy to break. She could feel the girl's hair brushing her lips. It smelled like the forests, the earth after the rain. Like wilderness. She kissed the top of her head. That made the girl startle and look up, eyes wide open, her mouth forming an O of surprise, her little hands going to Portugal's shoulders, and she started to talk again, making questions, and trying to touch Portugal's lips and talking, talking, talking. Portugal smiled. And then shook her head. She looked at the sea – dark green meeting deep blue on the horizon, sparkling under the sun – and just tried not to listen.