Hetalia One-Shots

UsUk : Ballet

  England clutched onto America's hand excitedly. He tried to hide his enthusiastic smile under his scarf but the tall blond easily saw through it. Pride overwhelmed him as he knew tickets for the Anastasia was the perfect gift for the bitter nation. They stood in line as a few snowflakes dropped from the sky to gently land on their noses. England leaned against his boyfriend's warm jacket and buried his blush in it.

  "We're almost in," squealed the green-eyed blond. America chuckled and pressed onto England's hand as well.

  "Yes, I know. Can't wait to get away from this freezing weather," mumbled the youngest with a warm smile. England's face slightly fell as he looked up with an adorable pout.

  "I'm sorry, it is very cold at night at my place."

  America pressed his lips together with eyes filled with surprise. The older nation would usually pester him about it 'not being so bad' or 'it wasn't too long so quiet down'. But there he was so grateful of his gift he clearly couldn't find the will to scold his lover. The blond softened his gaze and wrapped his arm around England's shoulders. They advanced step after step up to the cashier.

  "Tickets please," smiled the woman. She accepted the passes which America stuck under the glass screen and ripped off the top after scanning them. "Your seats are thirty-four and thirty-five F. Have a pleasant evening, and thank you!"

  The couple scurried inside the theater. There was a huge crowd chatting and drinking. A clock displayed the time hanging over the schedule of the show. The air was warm and smelled perfume as well as wine. Faint music was covered by the incessant conversations. England tugged at his sleeve and removed his coat. Pushing through the middle-aged men and women, both nations made it to the cloakroom and deposited their coats and scarves. Their hands soon found their ways to each other and linked together.

  "The F row is in the front so we should enter from door one," suggested England while pulling America along. The young blond nodded knowing his lover was in his world and didn't want to burst his bubble. The audience house was fairly empty and the two countries made their ways easily to their seats.

  More people flooded in the room and the lights slowly began to dim. The chatter died down and silence loomed through the theater. The green-eyed Brit squeezed America's arm in anticipation and laid his head against the country's shoulder. Music elevated from the orchestra as the curtains slowly rose. Two rows of dancers entered the scene each from different sides. They skipped one after the other en pointe with their arms gracefully waving over their heads.

  England sighed with a relaxed smile. The blue-eyed nation turned and glanced down to his boyfriend's content expression. His eyes shone with delight, his cheeks were reddened from the previous cold. His lips pressed together with astonishment and his fingers danced along America's forearm. The spectacle was mesmerizing the nation making him the most precious being alive.

  The blond couldn't help but smile sheepishly. He felt so happy his lover was happy. He knew England would talk about the event for weeks as his eyes sparkled in reminiscence. He began looking forward to those endless conversations about grace and harmony. Most of all, America couldn't wait to passionately discuss with England on such an interesting topic.

*

  The cold surprised both nations as they stepped outside. They were both in a satisfying daze as England hummed the previous tunes. His steps had a small skip as he advanced through the snow. He let go of America's hand to twirl past him and open his arms wide. He halted, facing his smiling boyfriend, and moved his foot forward, a hand extended as well. The blond gracefully accepted it and spun England into his chest, dipping him slightly and rubbing their noses together.

  "You got all that from watching them?" he chuckled, pulling his delighted sweetheart back to his feet. The green-eyed nation laced his fingers with America's and tittered with red cheeks.

  "Oh god no, I'm not a genius." England sighed with a smile plastered on his face. "I simply recalled how fun it was to move along the music, to let your body be freed from your mind," he explained, twitching his nose due to the cold. America stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing those words. He clawed at his partner's shoulders and stared at him wide-eyed.

  "You danced? Ballet! You? Since when? How come didn't I know anything of it?" shouted the blond in shock and thrill. England chuckled and pushed the nation to the side.

  "Yes... A long time ago though, France had convinced me to try it. I hated it at first... But gradually grew a liking for it. Despite it being the Frog's style, I appreciated it. Although I quickly found out about piracy and it electrified me much more," explained the dark blond with a dismissive hand wave. America clasped his freezing hands around England's warm cheeks.

  "That is so awesome! That's why you love ballet so much!"

  "I wouldn't go and say I love it, merely appreciate it..." argued the nation, in vain as his words were drowned with those of his beloved.

  "But why didn't you tell me? I could have done something like this sooner!"

  England smiled and came undone from the younger country's grasp. He took his hand in his own and pulled him forward, continuing their stroll in the snowy night. "I told you, that was a long time ago. I can't do that sort of thing anymore. And you were too young at that time, you wouldn't have cared anyway."

  The blue-eyed nation breathed out with a frown. "I still think you could have mentioned it... It looks like fun, what those ballerinas were doing." The dark blond perked up and glanced over to his lover thoughtfully. He suddenly burst into a guffaw which caught America's attention. England slapped his hand over his mouth trying to quiet down as the tall nation eyed him questionably and confused.

  Finally catching his breath, England began explaining himself between giggles. "I'm sorry... I was just imagining you ballet dancing," chortled the country. America opened his mouth offended then closed it. He watched his boyfriend in his fit of laughter waiting until he was done. The moment not coming, he spoke anyway.

  "I don't see what's so funny. Why couldn't I dance ballet huh?" he remarked, looking to the side slightly embarrassed. England shook his head and stuck close to America.

  "No, no, you're right. There is nothing funny in seeing your big, muscular body bending over to touch your toes. Or pulling your legs over your head. Or spinning on the tip of your toes. There is absolutely nothing amusing in picturing you in pink tights and a leotard," sneered the European nation, caressing America's face mockingly. The young blond blushed and stuttered at his companion's taunting smile. England pursued, puckering his lips as he described his thoughts.

  "We could even dance together, you know. I would run into your arms and you would raise me in the air gracefully. We would listen to classical music all day long and practice almost every day."

  America shook his head and raised England's scarf over his mouth to stop him from talking. "Okay, okay, I get it," he snickered pulling the nation forward as he marched. "We'll just stick to watching ballet, okay?" England laughed and nodded, nuzzling his head against America's chest. They continued walking pleasantly, exchanging kisses between each lamplight. Their steps crunched into the growing layer of snow and their laughter sparked the frosty air with joy. From that night on, Saturday evenings will be spent peacefully with a record of classical music playing in the background to recall the splendid show.