England’s eyes slid towards him. His voice was blank when he said, “Because sometimes when the lights came back on, parts of the city weren’t there anymore.”
America reached out slowly, allowing time for England to pull away. When he didn’t, America slid his hand into the curve of his neck and pulled the island nation close. England willing slid off his chair and pressed close, hands holding tight into America’s sweater. America weaved his fingers through England’s hair and just held him there. “It’s alright.” He said softly. “The war’s long over.”
England sighed softly and pressed his forehead into America’s shoulder, hiding his face there. “I know.” He said, voice muffled.
America pressed a careful kiss against England’s temple and stood up, keeping England tucked against him. He paused at the stairs then slid his arms lower. In one move, he’d picked England up in a bride carry. England yelped, hands automatically grabbing America’s shoulders. “What are you doing?” he shrieked, voice going high. America couldn’t help but laugh as he bounded up the stairs quickly.
“You’re afraid of the dark.” He said cheerfully, though most of it was faked, and eased the door to England’s room open with his foot. “What kind of hero would I be if I left you alone?”
“Put me down!” England shouted. “I’m NOT a damsel!”
“Okay!” America said and dumped the smaller nation on his bed. England yelped again and glared up at him. Then his eyes widened as America shrugged out of his jacket, placed Texas on the nightstand, and climbed in next to him. He blushed bright red, the color obvious with the light pouring in from the hall. “What are you doing?!” he demanded.
“I am not,” America said, false cheer gone in favor of the true seriousness he felt. “Leaving you alone with your ghosts. You’re too precious for that.” He raised one hand and carefully slid it across England’s cheek. The older man blushed heavily. He smiled softly and lifted his hand from England’s cheek to drape it across his waist and dragged him closer. “Better just get used to me.” He whispered against England’s ear.
England shivered and smacked him gently. “Idiot.” He huffed but curled closer, hand grasping America’s shirt carefully.
Blackout 5/5
England’s eyes slid towards him. His voice was blank when he said, “Because sometimes when the lights came back on, parts of the city weren’t there anymore.”
America reached out slowly, allowing time for England to pull away. When he didn’t, America slid his hand into the curve of his neck and pulled the island nation close. England willing slid off his chair and pressed close, hands holding tight into America’s sweater. America weaved his fingers through England’s hair and just held him there. “It’s alright.” He said softly. “The war’s long over.”
England sighed softly and pressed his forehead into America’s shoulder, hiding his face there. “I know.” He said, voice muffled.
America pressed a careful kiss against England’s temple and stood up, keeping England tucked against him. He paused at the stairs then slid his arms lower. In one move, he’d picked England up in a bride carry. England yelped, hands automatically grabbing America’s shoulders. “What are you doing?” he shrieked, voice going high. America couldn’t help but laugh as he bounded up the stairs quickly.
“You’re afraid of the dark.” He said cheerfully, though most of it was faked, and eased the door to England’s room open with his foot. “What kind of hero would I be if I left you alone?”
“Put me down!” England shouted. “I’m NOT a damsel!”
“Okay!” America said and dumped the smaller nation on his bed. England yelped again and glared up at him. Then his eyes widened as America shrugged out of his jacket, placed Texas on the nightstand, and climbed in next to him. He blushed bright red, the color obvious with the light pouring in from the hall. “What are you doing?!” he demanded.
“I am not,” America said, false cheer gone in favor of the true seriousness he felt. “Leaving you alone with your ghosts. You’re too precious for that.” He raised one hand and carefully slid it across England’s cheek. The older man blushed heavily. He smiled softly and lifted his hand from England’s cheek to drape it across his waist and dragged him closer. “Better just get used to me.” He whispered against England’s ear.
England shivered and smacked him gently. “Idiot.” He huffed but curled closer, hand grasping America’s shirt carefully.