America glanced meaningfully out of the corner of his eye at England for the umpteenth time that meeting and waggled his brows suggestively when the irritable nation turned to hiss “stop it” at him. Not deterred, America reached under the table and squeezed England’s thigh, only to have his hand slapped away for his trouble. He jutted out his lip in what he knew was an adorable pout, but England didn’t even bat an eye and merely grunted noncommittally. Thus, America decided to settle for holding England’s hand, but even that privilege was denied when England yanked his hand away and folded them mercilessly in his lap. America stared dejectedly down at his notes and ignored whatever Japan was saying about the supposed top issues.
After all, what did he care about global warming when there was the much more pressing issue of convincing his lover to make their relationship public?
And why not? They had confessed to their love months before, only to spend the time after sneaking around and acting nonchalant later. America had been ready to announce to the world that England was his and only his, so hands off, but England had other plans. When confronted about it, England had refused to mention just why he wasn’t ready to tell the world that he loved America, and either changed the subject or shut America’s mouth up with his.
The meeting adjourned and America dashed out to wait in the hallway, or more specifically to wait for England, who he grabbed and shoved into the nearest closet, immediately crushing his mouth to the island nation’s.
“Ameri-mm,” England hummed, any questions or protests dissolving into the kiss he pressed eagerly back against America’s demanding lips, his hands tangling in wheat golden locks and pulling closer.
“England,” America panted, getting only a groan in reply, and moved his ministrations from England’s mouth down to his neck and worked his way up to kiss at England’s eyelids. “Why don’t you want to tell everyone that we’re together?”
England, panting and flushed, stared at America with half-lidded eyes. “The bloody hell’s with the eyelid kissing?”
England was changing the subject again, but America decided to play along and shrugged. “It’s romantic,” he said simply and did it again.
The older nation snorted. “You? Romantic?”
“Damn straight,” America said with a smirk, and resumed his exploration of England’s face and neck. “It’s the Hollywood in me.”
“Ha! Bloody Holly--ah. Hollywood. You and your ghastly movies--oh yes, right there!” England gasped as America hit a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.
“You know you love it,” the younger nation murmured against England’s throat and decided to take his exploration down south with his hands, the moan he earned music to his ears.
“I never…said anything of the sort,” England managed to say between gasping breaths and started tugging off America’s tie. “Pants off. Now.”
America was all too happy to comply.
-----
Not that he minded random sex in storage closets, especially since England was hot when he was needy, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he could be romantic. It really was the Hollywood in him that enjoyed corny love stories and wanted a happily ever after with his true love. He knew England was his true love, but he couldn’t have his happily ever after if he had to keep that love a secret from his boss and fellow nations. He wanted to be able to hold England’s hand in front of others and kiss him more often than just when they were behind closed doors.
He wanted England to be as proud of their relationship as he was, but he had the sneaking suspicion that that was just the problem. England was ashamed of him and their relationship, and didn’t want to confess that he was in love with such a bumbling idiot.
That Hollywood need for a happy ending was striking with a vengeance inside him, and America thought he would change whatever bothered England about him to make him happy and proud of him. He had to do it, he needed to do it.
Change the World! 1a/?
After all, what did he care about global warming when there was the much more pressing issue of convincing his lover to make their relationship public?
And why not? They had confessed to their love months before, only to spend the time after sneaking around and acting nonchalant later. America had been ready to announce to the world that England was his and only his, so hands off, but England had other plans. When confronted about it, England had refused to mention just why he wasn’t ready to tell the world that he loved America, and either changed the subject or shut America’s mouth up with his.
The meeting adjourned and America dashed out to wait in the hallway, or more specifically to wait for England, who he grabbed and shoved into the nearest closet, immediately crushing his mouth to the island nation’s.
“Ameri-mm,” England hummed, any questions or protests dissolving into the kiss he pressed eagerly back against America’s demanding lips, his hands tangling in wheat golden locks and pulling closer.
“England,” America panted, getting only a groan in reply, and moved his ministrations from England’s mouth down to his neck and worked his way up to kiss at England’s eyelids. “Why don’t you want to tell everyone that we’re together?”
England, panting and flushed, stared at America with half-lidded eyes. “The bloody hell’s with the eyelid kissing?”
England was changing the subject again, but America decided to play along and shrugged. “It’s romantic,” he said simply and did it again.
The older nation snorted. “You? Romantic?”
“Damn straight,” America said with a smirk, and resumed his exploration of England’s face and neck. “It’s the Hollywood in me.”
“Ha! Bloody Holly--ah. Hollywood. You and your ghastly movies--oh yes, right there!” England gasped as America hit a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.
“You know you love it,” the younger nation murmured against England’s throat and decided to take his exploration down south with his hands, the moan he earned music to his ears.
“I never…said anything of the sort,” England managed to say between gasping breaths and started tugging off America’s tie. “Pants off. Now.”
America was all too happy to comply.
-----
Not that he minded random sex in storage closets, especially since England was hot when he was needy, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he could be romantic. It really was the Hollywood in him that enjoyed corny love stories and wanted a happily ever after with his true love. He knew England was his true love, but he couldn’t have his happily ever after if he had to keep that love a secret from his boss and fellow nations. He wanted to be able to hold England’s hand in front of others and kiss him more often than just when they were behind closed doors.
He wanted England to be as proud of their relationship as he was, but he had the sneaking suspicion that that was just the problem. England was ashamed of him and their relationship, and didn’t want to confess that he was in love with such a bumbling idiot.
That Hollywood need for a happy ending was striking with a vengeance inside him, and America thought he would change whatever bothered England about him to make him happy and proud of him. He had to do it, he needed to do it.