[log] would you tear my castle down? [closed]

[keepscalm]

Characters: England, America, and Ginger
Location B9, building 46
Date: Night 122
Summary: It has been a sad few days, but there are still some things that need to be discussed.
Warnings: None yet, will edit as needed!

[Actually getting into the house is a bit of a pain in the arse, but discovering that the bathroom has running water makes it well worth the trouble. Especially after yesterday. Ginger could probably use something luxurious right now.

England just hopes the anomalies can't climb ladders.]

Comments

[fifty]

I'm serious! [America sounds sort of desperate. England isn't supposed to just not believe him!]

[keepscalm]

Then why... [Well. Maybe asking why America never said anything wouldn't be a fair question, considering England's own reticence.

He shifts uncomfortably and drops his hand back into his lap.] ...what now, then?

[There's still a quality to his voice like this isn't quite real to him yet, airy and uncertain.]

[fifty]

I--don't know...? [The words feel strange in America's mouth. Everything feels pretty strange right now. It doesn't sound like England has any more of an idea of where they stand than he does. At least England isn't telling America he doesn't mean it anymore.] I kind of figured if I ever said anything it'd be, like, at home.

[keepscalm]

I was never going to say anything. [That's probably a very encouraging sentiment. But England doesn't really think before he says it; he's devoting most of his attention to wondering what happens now, and it comes out because it's a good indicator of the fact that he has no idea what's supposed to happen now.]

[fifty]

Oh. [That's kind of depressing. He fusses with his backpack.] But you did. Kind of.

[keepscalm]

[Indeed, he did. It was too heavy a weight to keep carrying, particularly when they've got so many other things to worry about right now. The thought of America dying here and England living the rest of his life with that uncertainty was too much.

England fidgets with one of his mittens.] I needed to know if it was really you in that dream. I didn't think it would amount to anything...else.

[fifty]

Yeah, it was me. [They already established this, but America is going somewhere with it this time.] Sorry if I-- [He hesitates, searches for the right words. That's unusual enough, let alone the fact America is apologizing for something.] If it was--embarrassing.

[keepscalm]

[England doesn't mean to, but the first thing that comes out of him in response to that is a bitter snort.] Oh, it's all right. It's great fun having someone faff about in your subconscious. Smashing, really.

[Sarcasm is the only way he can cope with what was, really, one of the absolute worst violations of his privacy that he's ever experienced. There are certain things that he'd rather take to his grave, and it's unsettling to think that people could have uncovered them so, so easily.

...even so, it's nice of America to apologise. England lets out his resentment in a weary sigh.] It's not your fault.

[fifty]

[America isn't used to feeling this bad about things--especially lately, if he's being honest. But England's derisive sarcasm hits him hard anyway.] I should've just left you alone, probably, but--I dunno.

[keepscalm]

[England isn't going to disagree with that. Still, he turns it over in his head as he absently runs his fingers along the stitches of the mittens.] I imagine I would have done the same thing if it had been the other way around.

[If it had been America in the middle of a fight, America helpless to escape one of his looming fears, of course England would have intervened. And he wouldn't have turned down any dream-based affection, either, he's fairly certain.]

[fifty]

[America chews on his lower lip and fusses with his glasses.] Then I guess--it's okay, then? The--dream stuff that happened.

[keepscalm]

[While England is pretty sure he knows what America is referring to, a lot happened in that dream and some of it was definitely not okay.

He clears his throat.] You're going to have to be more specific.

[All right, maybe he's just compelled to be difficult.]

[fifty]

The--um. Kissing and stuff. [He says the words as quickly as possible, and surprisingly quietly for America. Not quietly enough to not be heard, though.]

[keepscalm]

[At least some of England's predictions are accurate. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck and adamantly ignores his own blush. With respect to recent revelations, America's shyness in answering isn't too surprising.] ...I'm all right with it if you are.

[fifty]

Yeah! Yeah, it was... It was nice. [America looks away, stares at the wall. He feels stupid for being so shy. He's never shy!]

[keepscalm]

[Despite England's past experience, he finds that he's not doing much better with the matter. It's just too good to be true; what can he say that won't completely cock it up?]

...was it?

[Nailed it.]

[fifty]

Yeah. [How many times has he said yeah? He's pretty sure it's too many times.] Yeah [there he goes again], it was just--I didn't think I'd get to--I guess I haven't really, but it was still--I mean--it was--

[It was...?




America darts forward and kisses England. Gently, shyly, chastely, quickly, but he does it.]

[keepscalm]

[Everything stops again.

Including England's heart, or at least it feels like it does, for just a brief moment. It's not a dream this time. America really...

There's a swell in his chest and a flutter in his stomach, and his blank expression cracks wide open, tentative and even hopeful for the first time. He finds himself reaching for the collar of America's jacket and leaning in before he knows what's happening, but he stops before their lips can meet again.] ...may I?

[fifty]

[America feels a spark of energy run down his throat and settle low in his belly.] Y--Sure. [Better than yeah, he thinks. Maybe.]

[keepscalm]

[Sadly, America's attempts to broaden his vocabulary go unnoticed, because all England can focus on is how close he is and the fact that he said yes.

So he closes the rest of the distance between them. While he doesn't go all in by any means, this kiss is certainly much less chaste.]

[fifty]

[America is as shy as he was in the dream, though tending toward enthusiastic. It has to be obvious now that England is awake and fully aware of the situation--America doesn't have experience kissing. He has to follow England's lead, though in at least this respect he's a quick learner.]

[keepscalm]

[At first, England doesn't entirely realise, too blown away by the fact that he's kissing America at all. They're kissing, and it's not a dream, and England has wanted this for so long that he's not sure what he'll even do with himself from now on. But when he notices how easy it is to lead America, the oddness of it strikes him in a familiar way.

He doesn't stop just for that, because hell, he's not an idiot. He just takes note of it as his pace slows and the kiss comes to a natural end, tapering off with England still hovering far too close to hide how intent he is on this development.]

[fifty]

[America lingers just as close, though it takes him a moment to collect himself enough to form thoughts that go beyond "England kissed me".] Y-yeah, this is really nice. [They're not the most collected thoughts he's ever had, mind.]

[keepscalm]

[Anticipatory energy buzzes beneath England's skin and sparks in the air between them. It is really nice, and if America thinks so, as well, then...]

...then...we— are we...? [England isn't too sure what he's even asking. It's hard to grasp when so many things are whirling around in his mind.]

[fifty]

Like--dating? [The word dances in America's throat.] Yes? If you want to.