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heroescutiesThis oneshot is the first in a multi-part collection called "A Little Piece of You" focusing on couples and an item of clothing shared between the two.
Title: A Little Piece of You (1/?): Warmth
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance/FLUFF
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: England/America
Word Count: 1,178
Summary: Leaning back on the bench, England looked up at the gray clouds above and thought back to the first time he’d worn America’s precious bomber jacket.
Had it been later in the year, he would have come prepared. New York was pretty mild throughout October and usually a nice long sleeved jumper would suffice. But, as with a lot of American weather, there had been a freak snowstorm that had dosed the city in white and made it undeniably cold.
America, spouting off some nonsense about it being a hero’s duty, had gallantly given over his precious bomber jacket to England when they’d gone out; draping the shorter country in well-loved brown leather. As England sat on the bench in Central Park, shivering a bit due to the chill in the air and clutching the coat tighter around him, he smiled a bit to himself.
The jacket now was worn, but well cared for. The leather wasn’t near as stiff and inflexible as it had been the first time England had worn it, and the fur around the collar was a bit less fluffy than he remembered it.
Leaning back on the bench, England looked up at the gray clouds above and thought back to the first time he’d worn America’s precious bomber jacket.
-----------------------
It was the middle of WWII and the meeting had gotten a bit derailed when England and America started bickering again. England thought he was thoroughly justified, having had enough of America’s bragging about his planes and how wonderful they were. And despite America’s eye rolls and mutters about it being a “Timber Terror,” England had absolutely insisted on taking him up in his current plane that very night.
America had eyed the two seater British bomber warily, cracking comments about the plane being made of mostly wood and asking if England had a parachute for him. But England was adamant, ushering him up the ladder and into the navigator’s chair.
“Just hush up. The Mossie’s a right fine craft and she could fly circles around some of your clunky models,” he reprimanded, pulling on his cap and preparing for takeoff, opening the radiator shutters so his engines wouldn’t overheat.
America chuckled. “If you say so old man.”
England started taxing out, casting a glare over his shoulder at the younger aviator behind him. He’d show America what the British pilots had been doing quite well, thank you very much, for years before he’d shown up.
With a slight smirk, he let the plane swing-out slightly on take-off. America started leaning forward, ready to help, but England quickly righted the plane and got it up into the sky with ease.
“Let the old pro pilot this time, America. Believe or not, I do know what I’m doing.”
He felt a smack of leather against the back of his head at that, and if he wasn’t so focused on not crashing the plane, England was certain he would have turned around immediately and started telling America off. Right prat, he was sometimes.
“What the bloody hell are you doing back there?”
America huffed, shifting his eyes to look out across the expanse of night sky. “For such an expert you aren’t dressed for it at all.”
England’s eyes flickered down to his usual olive green uniform. He’d been so frustrated with America that he hadn’t thought to change into his aviator gear completely before stuffing America into his plane and taking off.
Holding his head up proudly and not about to be one-upped, he replied coolly, “I have my cap and goggles. I’m quite all right.”
The leather that was draped somewhere around the back of his chair shifted, and England gripped the wheel a bit tighter as he realized what America had been trying to do. Is he trying to give me his coat?
As if to answer his thought, warm hands reached around the sides of England’s chair and settled the large bomber jacket around his shoulders. “Not good to get cold, especially at night.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that America was correcting him or the lingering hands on his shoulders that made him blush the most. Shifting in the jacket, England felt his face heat up more as his heart started to race. Oh blast it all, it smells just like him…
Clearing his throat, he carefully threaded his arms through too-big sleeves. “Well, if you hadn’t been being such a braggart I would have waited until tomorrow to take you up.”
“And if you hadn’t been being such a…”
And before America could finish, England dipped the nose of the plane down into a dive, smirking to himself as America’s sentence died off and he heard the other country gasp. He skimmed over the land, pulling up at the last moment and rising steadily until they were soaring smoothly again.
“W-Wow…” America stammered, partially breathless. He started laughing. “Damn England. You’re right, this baby can move. And you want me to believe it’s made of plywood?”
England smiled to himself, clutching America’s jacket closer to him and trying not to think too much about why he enjoyed having it around him. “Balsa Bomber, Wooden Wonder, call the Mosquito what you will America. She can fly.”
“Good thing the awesome pilot is warm enough to do his job then, hmm?” America quipped.
And England let America have that one without argument, because his coat was warm (even if it smelled slightly of hamburgers) and well…he flushed, America had said the pilot was awesome.
“Quite right,” England said genuinely. “Thank you.”
-----------------------
“You’re going to end up with a face full of snow at this rate,” America’s voice cut into England’s reverie and he snapped back to attention.
Standing in front the bench was America, wielding a warm packet of roasted chestnuts he’d gone to get for them. “Here, this’ll warm you up.”
The older country reached out and took a chestnut and popped it into his mouth. “You’re the one without a coat.”
America shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m a hero after all!”
But the rosy tinge to his cheeks and nose betrayed him. England patted the bench next to him and waited for America to sit down. Under the ruse of leaning closer for another chestnut, he slipped his arms out of the jacket’s sleeves and slid it around both of their shoulders. America blinked.
“W-What are you doing?”
England snuggled into his side with a blush. “Well… it’s not good to get cold. Especially at night. And it is your coat. It would be right rude of me not to share.”
America just grinned, pressing a kiss to England’s forehead and nuzzling into his hair. “Thanks.”
And with a smile, England leaned up and pecked a quick kiss to America’s lips. “You’re the idiotic hero who shared it in the first place, silly.”
America gave a dorky smile in reply, his mouth too full of chestnuts to speak. With a gust of wind, the snow started up again and the two huddled closer; England thinking to himself that despite the wear and tear it had gained over the years- the jacket was much better now, and warmer, with America still in it.
--------------------------
Notes:
[1] England's plane is a de Havilland Mosquito, a British combat aircraft that excelled in versatility during the Second World War. It was comprised of two Rolls-Royce engines, and to save strategic materials, all-wood construction was chosen. This earned it the nicknames Balsa Bomber, Timber Terror, and Wooden Wonder; although its pilots often affectionately called it "Mossie."
Title: A Little Piece of You (1/?): Warmth
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Romance/FLUFF
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: England/America
Word Count: 1,178
Summary: Leaning back on the bench, England looked up at the gray clouds above and thought back to the first time he’d worn America’s precious bomber jacket.
Had it been later in the year, he would have come prepared. New York was pretty mild throughout October and usually a nice long sleeved jumper would suffice. But, as with a lot of American weather, there had been a freak snowstorm that had dosed the city in white and made it undeniably cold.
America, spouting off some nonsense about it being a hero’s duty, had gallantly given over his precious bomber jacket to England when they’d gone out; draping the shorter country in well-loved brown leather. As England sat on the bench in Central Park, shivering a bit due to the chill in the air and clutching the coat tighter around him, he smiled a bit to himself.
The jacket now was worn, but well cared for. The leather wasn’t near as stiff and inflexible as it had been the first time England had worn it, and the fur around the collar was a bit less fluffy than he remembered it.
Leaning back on the bench, England looked up at the gray clouds above and thought back to the first time he’d worn America’s precious bomber jacket.
-----------------------
It was the middle of WWII and the meeting had gotten a bit derailed when England and America started bickering again. England thought he was thoroughly justified, having had enough of America’s bragging about his planes and how wonderful they were. And despite America’s eye rolls and mutters about it being a “Timber Terror,” England had absolutely insisted on taking him up in his current plane that very night.
America had eyed the two seater British bomber warily, cracking comments about the plane being made of mostly wood and asking if England had a parachute for him. But England was adamant, ushering him up the ladder and into the navigator’s chair.
“Just hush up. The Mossie’s a right fine craft and she could fly circles around some of your clunky models,” he reprimanded, pulling on his cap and preparing for takeoff, opening the radiator shutters so his engines wouldn’t overheat.
America chuckled. “If you say so old man.”
England started taxing out, casting a glare over his shoulder at the younger aviator behind him. He’d show America what the British pilots had been doing quite well, thank you very much, for years before he’d shown up.
With a slight smirk, he let the plane swing-out slightly on take-off. America started leaning forward, ready to help, but England quickly righted the plane and got it up into the sky with ease.
“Let the old pro pilot this time, America. Believe or not, I do know what I’m doing.”
He felt a smack of leather against the back of his head at that, and if he wasn’t so focused on not crashing the plane, England was certain he would have turned around immediately and started telling America off. Right prat, he was sometimes.
“What the bloody hell are you doing back there?”
America huffed, shifting his eyes to look out across the expanse of night sky. “For such an expert you aren’t dressed for it at all.”
England’s eyes flickered down to his usual olive green uniform. He’d been so frustrated with America that he hadn’t thought to change into his aviator gear completely before stuffing America into his plane and taking off.
Holding his head up proudly and not about to be one-upped, he replied coolly, “I have my cap and goggles. I’m quite all right.”
The leather that was draped somewhere around the back of his chair shifted, and England gripped the wheel a bit tighter as he realized what America had been trying to do. Is he trying to give me his coat?
As if to answer his thought, warm hands reached around the sides of England’s chair and settled the large bomber jacket around his shoulders. “Not good to get cold, especially at night.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that America was correcting him or the lingering hands on his shoulders that made him blush the most. Shifting in the jacket, England felt his face heat up more as his heart started to race. Oh blast it all, it smells just like him…
Clearing his throat, he carefully threaded his arms through too-big sleeves. “Well, if you hadn’t been being such a braggart I would have waited until tomorrow to take you up.”
“And if you hadn’t been being such a…”
And before America could finish, England dipped the nose of the plane down into a dive, smirking to himself as America’s sentence died off and he heard the other country gasp. He skimmed over the land, pulling up at the last moment and rising steadily until they were soaring smoothly again.
“W-Wow…” America stammered, partially breathless. He started laughing. “Damn England. You’re right, this baby can move. And you want me to believe it’s made of plywood?”
England smiled to himself, clutching America’s jacket closer to him and trying not to think too much about why he enjoyed having it around him. “Balsa Bomber, Wooden Wonder, call the Mosquito what you will America. She can fly.”
“Good thing the awesome pilot is warm enough to do his job then, hmm?” America quipped.
And England let America have that one without argument, because his coat was warm (even if it smelled slightly of hamburgers) and well…he flushed, America had said the pilot was awesome.
“Quite right,” England said genuinely. “Thank you.”
-----------------------
“You’re going to end up with a face full of snow at this rate,” America’s voice cut into England’s reverie and he snapped back to attention.
Standing in front the bench was America, wielding a warm packet of roasted chestnuts he’d gone to get for them. “Here, this’ll warm you up.”
The older country reached out and took a chestnut and popped it into his mouth. “You’re the one without a coat.”
America shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m a hero after all!”
But the rosy tinge to his cheeks and nose betrayed him. England patted the bench next to him and waited for America to sit down. Under the ruse of leaning closer for another chestnut, he slipped his arms out of the jacket’s sleeves and slid it around both of their shoulders. America blinked.
“W-What are you doing?”
England snuggled into his side with a blush. “Well… it’s not good to get cold. Especially at night. And it is your coat. It would be right rude of me not to share.”
America just grinned, pressing a kiss to England’s forehead and nuzzling into his hair. “Thanks.”
And with a smile, England leaned up and pecked a quick kiss to America’s lips. “You’re the idiotic hero who shared it in the first place, silly.”
America gave a dorky smile in reply, his mouth too full of chestnuts to speak. With a gust of wind, the snow started up again and the two huddled closer; England thinking to himself that despite the wear and tear it had gained over the years- the jacket was much better now, and warmer, with America still in it.
--------------------------
Notes:
[1] England's plane is a de Havilland Mosquito, a British combat aircraft that excelled in versatility during the Second World War. It was comprised of two Rolls-Royce engines, and to save strategic materials, all-wood construction was chosen. This earned it the nicknames Balsa Bomber, Timber Terror, and Wooden Wonder; although its pilots often affectionately called it "Mossie."
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Date: 2009-08-18 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-08-18 01:48 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 03:01 pm (UTC)Aaaaaaaaaah.
Thank you.
This fic includes three things I'm a complete spazz for: Aviator!America, England in America's jacket, and AVIATOR!ENGLAND ohmygod. Add to that that it was sweet and perfectly in character and adorable and I just . . . oh, man. That's so great!
They're both so cute in this.
♥
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:36 am (UTC)Oh gosh, I am so so weak for those three things too. Aviators make me wibble <3
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Date: 2009-08-18 03:24 pm (UTC)I certainly have a thing with that jacket. I can imagine myself wearing it and, it must be so warm! >//<
But England wearing it, and being America the one that covers England with it, it makes me melt ♥
I needed some fluff. And this was so adorable!
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:37 am (UTC)And yes, the jacket-thing is so cute. <3
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Date: 2009-08-18 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-19 03:04 am (UTC);^; I-I miss roasted nuts so much... it's been such a long long time since I last had a bag of the good stuff...they're especially great in October/November...
-cries-
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:43 am (UTC)Oh gosh yet. As much as I hate winter, the food then is great <3
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Date: 2009-08-19 05:44 am (UTC)And I love that plane.
Each remind me of their owners. So cute! The coat reminds me of Alfred because its so warm, inviting, and protective of whomever it shelters. And the plane reminds me of Arthur because it's underestimated, even by Alfred, but has surprising speed and agility. Haha, forgive me, I'm being a cheese ball. I loved this story, it will have to be stored away in my memories!
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:44 am (UTC)And yes I really love that plane. It's like...my new favorite plane ever.
Hee, yes the boys and their similarities to their items. So true. <3
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Date: 2009-08-19 03:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-20 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-20 02:24 am (UTC)And I just loved America calling England "awesome". That was so... aw.
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Date: 2009-10-16 12:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-20 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-21 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 12:50 am (UTC)