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)
metamorphosis2010-01-24 07:20 am
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-01-24 07:20 am
Entry tags:
31;
Title: Spanish Romance
Characters: England, Spain
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff.
The smell of hot chocolate makes it feel cozy. In front of the fire, sipping the sweet and spicy drink, they sit. England hesitantly leans back into Spain; the latter laughs softly and wraps his arms around the former's neck loosely, pressing his lips to England's ear and watching the flames dance. By far, it's the most comfortable experience they've felt yet together. England shifts down to look up. Spain smiles down at him, and he flushes with slight irritation.
Still, this doesn't ruin the mood. They share the hot chocolate, they share the flames, and most of all: they don't fight like they used to. Instead of cold steel there are crude jokes about the invincibility of empires. Instead of bites and tacts of humiliation, there are kisses and (admittedly irritated) hisses to stop doing that so suddenly. It isn't much, but for the two of them, this is something they never thought would happen.
Like hell would they think they could sit in each other's embrace and warm themselves by the fire four centuries and fifty years ago. They'd rather fight then, snarl and dance with swords, live their life by death's game of chance and come out, alive, with as few scratches as possible. The scars still ache for the both of them - especially the burns and especially the ones personally inflicted, and not all of those are physical - and it's when Spain winces when he stands that England notes this. Of course, this is after he falls backwards at the sudden standing, hurriedly trying to save his drink and succeeding.
Spain snickers and kneels down, kisses England while he's surprised (with nerve - on the lips!), and stands up and back again just to narrowly miss being hit. He laughs at England's irritation and pulls him up, yanking hard enough to make the former British Empire to wince and scowl. Yet he wraps his arms around the waist of the scowling nation and pulls him close, pressing his forehead to England's and looking at him with what England assumes are 'puppy dog eyes'.
"Dance?"
"No."
There it was. The slightly pouting lip and false hurt in Spain's eyes.
"No, Spain. No, no, no, no."
"Why not?"
"The last time I danced with you-"
"-you fell on your butt because you couldn't keep up. No, no, we won't be doing that sort of dance."
He puts England's arms around his neck and replaces his hands on England's waist, humming. England looks perplexed, especially when Spain starts to sway and smile stupidly.
"See? It is a quiet dance. This isn't so bad, is it?"
England makes a sort of tired, agreeing sound and lets Spain lay his head in the crook of his neck. He's almost comfortable with the thick dark hair tickling his cheek - he nearly lays his head on Spain's, to return the thoughtful embrace - when Spain kisses his neck; soft kisses, to his shoulder and back up to his ear, around the nape of his neck and resting them just below his ear, a sensitive spot and England knows he knows it.
"Te amo, Inglaterra. Siempre. Sí... incluso entonces."
England doesn't respond, and he thinks it's best if he doesn't. After all, it wasn't tactful to end a quiet moment by asking Spain beg pardon and for him to repeat his words, soft as they were.
--
○ the Spanish Romance is another name for the Spanish Ballad. it's a very lovely song played on the guitar (Spanish guitars work best of course). very romantic.
○ "Te amo, Inglaterra. Siempre. Sí... incluso entonces." - "I love you, England. Always. Yes... Even then." (Admittedly, I'm not too sure on my Spanish; tis rusty)
○ the dance refers to the flamenco. I imagine England would have a bad time with it as it's extremely fast paced and close to your partner.
Characters: England, Spain
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff.
The smell of hot chocolate makes it feel cozy. In front of the fire, sipping the sweet and spicy drink, they sit. England hesitantly leans back into Spain; the latter laughs softly and wraps his arms around the former's neck loosely, pressing his lips to England's ear and watching the flames dance. By far, it's the most comfortable experience they've felt yet together. England shifts down to look up. Spain smiles down at him, and he flushes with slight irritation.
Still, this doesn't ruin the mood. They share the hot chocolate, they share the flames, and most of all: they don't fight like they used to. Instead of cold steel there are crude jokes about the invincibility of empires. Instead of bites and tacts of humiliation, there are kisses and (admittedly irritated) hisses to stop doing that so suddenly. It isn't much, but for the two of them, this is something they never thought would happen.
Like hell would they think they could sit in each other's embrace and warm themselves by the fire four centuries and fifty years ago. They'd rather fight then, snarl and dance with swords, live their life by death's game of chance and come out, alive, with as few scratches as possible. The scars still ache for the both of them - especially the burns and especially the ones personally inflicted, and not all of those are physical - and it's when Spain winces when he stands that England notes this. Of course, this is after he falls backwards at the sudden standing, hurriedly trying to save his drink and succeeding.
Spain snickers and kneels down, kisses England while he's surprised (with nerve - on the lips!), and stands up and back again just to narrowly miss being hit. He laughs at England's irritation and pulls him up, yanking hard enough to make the former British Empire to wince and scowl. Yet he wraps his arms around the waist of the scowling nation and pulls him close, pressing his forehead to England's and looking at him with what England assumes are 'puppy dog eyes'.
"Dance?"
"No."
There it was. The slightly pouting lip and false hurt in Spain's eyes.
"No, Spain. No, no, no, no."
"Why not?"
"The last time I danced with you-"
"-you fell on your butt because you couldn't keep up. No, no, we won't be doing that sort of dance."
He puts England's arms around his neck and replaces his hands on England's waist, humming. England looks perplexed, especially when Spain starts to sway and smile stupidly.
"See? It is a quiet dance. This isn't so bad, is it?"
England makes a sort of tired, agreeing sound and lets Spain lay his head in the crook of his neck. He's almost comfortable with the thick dark hair tickling his cheek - he nearly lays his head on Spain's, to return the thoughtful embrace - when Spain kisses his neck; soft kisses, to his shoulder and back up to his ear, around the nape of his neck and resting them just below his ear, a sensitive spot and England knows he knows it.
"Te amo, Inglaterra. Siempre. Sí... incluso entonces."
England doesn't respond, and he thinks it's best if he doesn't. After all, it wasn't tactful to end a quiet moment by asking Spain beg pardon and for him to repeat his words, soft as they were.
--
○ the Spanish Romance is another name for the Spanish Ballad. it's a very lovely song played on the guitar (Spanish guitars work best of course). very romantic.
○ "Te amo, Inglaterra. Siempre. Sí... incluso entonces." - "I love you, England. Always. Yes... Even then." (Admittedly, I'm not too sure on my Spanish; tis rusty)
○ the dance refers to the flamenco. I imagine England would have a bad time with it as it's extremely fast paced and close to your partner.