People that are reading this and arent reviewing dont have accounts, right? Am I right? Cause there's no way you would continue reading this if you didnt like it! And if you do like and your still not reviewing...well...thanks...thanks alot. For not caring!!! *Cries* Enjoy, you mean people!!!
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As soon as England woke up, his heart began to flutter. He was able to see light through his still closed eyelids, telling him that it was morning. And he still felt America's arms around his neck, his rhythmic breath running over his throat. A small smile crossed his face: he had slept like that the whole night. Without thinking, England's hand found its way back to America's hair, running his fingers through his fine strands. Why he did this, he still wasn't sure. It was probably just because he still felt some brotherly affection for him, that's all. And it had been a long time since anyone had shown any affection for him. It was refreshing to not have people hate him for once.
Yawning, England took his hand away from America's head as he stretched his arms. He should get up and make them some breakfast.
"Why'd you stop?"
England jumped in surprise, letting out an undignified, "Eek!" as he opened his eyes to look down at America. His green eyes met America's blue ones which, to his dismay, looked wide awake.
"H-h-how long…?" England tried to ask, feeling his face flush.
"Have I been up?" America finished, pulling his arms from England's neck as he laid them on his chest to balance his chin on. "A few minutes. I was thinking of making waffles or something, but someone had been holding me." America's smirk widened as England felt his face grow hotter. "But I did like you messing with my hair. It felt nice."
England cleared his throat, taking his eyes off of America for a moment. He had thought that he had still been fast asleep, that being the only reason he had allowed himself to do such things with his hair. It had been stupid for him to not even open his eyes to make sure that America was asleep. Now he had given America a reason to have that smug smirk on his face. "I'm willing to make breakfast," England said, trying to sit up. He found this difficult though, seeing as America was now refusing to get off of him.
"You made it yesterday, so I can make it today," America said, pushing down slightly on England's chest. "You don't have to get up."
"I don't want to sleep in," England argued, still trying and failing to get up. "I have to keep reading."
"Just stay in bed," America retorted, easily keeping him pinned to the bed. "You'll be able to research better if you're well rested."
"America," England complained, not liking that he was being told what to do, especially by America. "Just let me—"
His sentence cut off as America lowered his face, barely a centimeter of space between the tips of their noses. America's blue eyes stared right into England's, rendering him unable to speak, barely able to breathe. "Stay," America purred, making England's chest tighten.
There was no way that England was going to win this one. "Fine," he answered, his heart thumping hard from how close America was to him. A sly smirk spread on America's lips as he continued to just stare into England's eyes. This really needed to stop though—England couldn't breathe.
"Your eyes are really green," America noticed, daring to let his face lean just slightly closer. On instinct, England tried to keep whatever space he could between them, but the pillow behind his head didn't have any more give.
"And yours are cerulean," England gasped, trying to remember how to inhale and exhale correctly. But upon him slowly regaining the ability to breathe, all he smelled was America. Sugar cinnamon, lattes, a hint of a bakery. His mouth watered—a sick part of him wanted to taste him.
