yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2010-03-30 04:10 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-03-30 04:10 pm
Entry tags:
56;
Title: A million dancing colors
Characters: England, Spain
Rating: G
Simultaneously a filled request for my good friend Arthur and a fill for 30smiles' prompt 'Butterfly'.
It flew through the open window and settled on his knee as if to show him he was not alone in the world. England certainly felt it – the stillness of the air, the immense heat, the fan that sputtered out a few cool blasts every so often. He wiped his brow and leaned back, heels kicked onto the desk and chair teetering precariously on the edge. After a moment, the dazzling insect started off again, settling this time on the lip of his tea cup. He watched it, fanning himself with the papers in his hand, then nudged the tea cup the slightest.
The butterfly took off, flapping in the heat, and settled back on his leg. England frowned slightly and shook his head, clumsily returning to fanning himself.
Suddenly he felt a cool breeze, concentrated and with the scent of paella. He hummed in approval, tilting his head to catch the cool air – stopping when he heard a chuckle, low and close to his ear, and felt a warm tongue press against the back of his ear. He flinched away, clapping his free hand over the offended place, jerking forward and slamming his knee into the hard oak desk.
Spain laughed, breathy and free, and leaned forward on the chair currently being used, laying his head softly on England’s head and nuzzling it. He sputtered out another laugh when he was shoved away, weakly, because company was company and company was better, in some aspect, than solitude. After a quiet moment, he sighed and returned to his spot, breath slow and even, and if it wasn’t for the giggles that sometime slipped by England would’ve assumed he had dozed off.
“Are you so delirious from the heat you’ve taken to giggling at absolutely nothing?”
“You’re flushed.”
“It’s hot, Spain.”
“It’s a good colour on you.”
“I-- excuse me?”
Spain giggled again and pressed a kiss to his jaw, admiring the pinks and reds and whites, smiling kindly and whispered quietly into his skin.
“Your heat should break more often.”
Characters: England, Spain
Rating: G
Simultaneously a filled request for my good friend Arthur and a fill for 30smiles' prompt 'Butterfly'.
It flew through the open window and settled on his knee as if to show him he was not alone in the world. England certainly felt it – the stillness of the air, the immense heat, the fan that sputtered out a few cool blasts every so often. He wiped his brow and leaned back, heels kicked onto the desk and chair teetering precariously on the edge. After a moment, the dazzling insect started off again, settling this time on the lip of his tea cup. He watched it, fanning himself with the papers in his hand, then nudged the tea cup the slightest.
The butterfly took off, flapping in the heat, and settled back on his leg. England frowned slightly and shook his head, clumsily returning to fanning himself.
Suddenly he felt a cool breeze, concentrated and with the scent of paella. He hummed in approval, tilting his head to catch the cool air – stopping when he heard a chuckle, low and close to his ear, and felt a warm tongue press against the back of his ear. He flinched away, clapping his free hand over the offended place, jerking forward and slamming his knee into the hard oak desk.
Spain laughed, breathy and free, and leaned forward on the chair currently being used, laying his head softly on England’s head and nuzzling it. He sputtered out another laugh when he was shoved away, weakly, because company was company and company was better, in some aspect, than solitude. After a quiet moment, he sighed and returned to his spot, breath slow and even, and if it wasn’t for the giggles that sometime slipped by England would’ve assumed he had dozed off.
“Are you so delirious from the heat you’ve taken to giggling at absolutely nothing?”
“You’re flushed.”
“It’s hot, Spain.”
“It’s a good colour on you.”
“I-- excuse me?”
Spain giggled again and pressed a kiss to his jaw, admiring the pinks and reds and whites, smiling kindly and whispered quietly into his skin.
“Your heat should break more often.”