[Fic] When In London

[hetalia17.livejournal.com]

Title: When In London
Pairing: America/England
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 2,729
Summary: All America wanted was to see all of London from the top of Big Ben…what was so bad about that? Apparently, he was about to learn more than he’d ever bargained for.
Note: Crazy headcanon ahead, mild (fail) smut, and general crack. Written for the Special Relationship Sweethearts Week, Prompt 2: Fish and Chips, over on the USxUK community.

 

 

“It’s so big!”

 

“O-of course it’s big, you git! It’s Big Ben!”

 

America leaned his head back all the way, staring up at the tall clock tower, so familiar to the London skyline. It was a beautiful piece of architecture, from the base to the clock face all the way up to the very tip. Inwardly, he wondered what it would be like to go all the way up to the top. What would England’s beautiful capital look like from that great height? After all, what was a sightseeing date in London without getting to see the entire city from the top of one of the most well-known buildings in the world?

 

But it seemed that his date did not have that same interest in mind, for England tugged on his sleeve, a blush on his face. “C-come on, you. There’s a nice restaurant down the street. We can have dinner there…and th-then go back to my place for a nice—”

 

“I want to go up to the top of the clock tower, England.”

 

Silence.

 

More silence.

 

Okay, England was being too quiet now for America to brush this off. He tore his eyes from the magnificent building to his partner. England’s face had gone a bright red, and he’d averted his eyes, turning his head away like he always did when he was embarrassed.

 

And of course, when England was embarrassed like this, America wanted to know why.

 

“Hey…hey, England? What’s up?” He tapped the Briton on the shoulder, but England refused to reply. Instead, he made a small grunting sound and shrugged his shoulders.

 

The American frowned. Sure, it wasn’t all that unusual to see England act like this when America said something provocative or suggestive or embarrassing, but for the man to get flustered over something like this? It was puzzling to America, and he, for one, did not like to be puzzled. Especially over something so vague and trifling. …Geez, he didn’t even know he even knew words like that. He’d been hanging out with England for too long.

 

So what else was a daft American to do but embarrass his lover further and move behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle his neck in a comforting kiss—in public, at that? “England, tell me what’s wrong.” He whispered into the Brit’s ear, but England only stiffened and jerked out of his arms, face all sorts of interesting red colors, some America was sure he’d never seen before on the color spectrum.

 

“You bloody idiot! We’re in public!” England snapped, rubbing his neck and glancing around frantically.

 

“Come on, Iggy! Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? It’s only a trip up to the top of the clock tower! It’ll be loads of fun!”

 

Bong.

 

America froze. Then checked his watch. And froze again.

 

“Did that clock just…?”

 

Instantly, England’s face morphed into a fierce scowl, his neck now joining in the blazing redness on his cheeks. In fact, it was so red that America wasn’t exactly sure on first glance where England’s neck ended and his face began. But he couldn’t be concerned with that now. It was only 5:47 pm. Why on earth would Big Ben chime at such an odd time?

 

As he turned to England, voicing his inquiry, the Briton did not answer. Instead, he grabbed America’s wrist in an iron grip and turned on his heel, away from the clock tower. “Perhaps it’s just a malfunction…a loose screw or a cog that’s not adjusted correctly. I’m sure they’ll fix it soon.”

 

“Hey, the clock tower is that way!” America pulled his wrist away, pointing to the building behind them. “I thought we were gonna go up to the top and see the city from there!”

 

Green eyes stared icily into blue ones for a long moment before finally England sighed. “Fine. We’ll go up into the clock tower. But we’re not going to dillydally there all day, do you understand me?” He crossed his arms, staring at America with an irritated expression.

 

Both men were silent for about three seconds before America let out a whoop of delight, seeing that the Brit had finally conceded and he’d gotten his way. And before England could scold him for yelling so loud in public, the American blonde grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the building he seemed so reluctant to approach.

 

USxUK ~ USxUK ~ USxUK

 

“I don’t even see why we have to look out over the city from such a height.” England grumbled, after they’d shown their government IDs and requested permission to go to the top of the tower.

 

America flashed his typical hero’s grin at the disgruntled Englishman as they began to ascend the stairs. (There were so many of them! Why couldn’t they just install an elevator to the top?) “Think of it as a mood setter, England! I mean, what’s more romantic than seeing such a beautiful city in the glowing hue of the sunset…from the very top of said city’s internationally-known relic?”

 

England didn’t answer, something that was becoming more common than not this evening, so naturally, America filled the silence with the wonderful cadences of his own booming voice. “I mean, we share a few moments gazing out over your city with the sun setting in the horizon, steal a few kisses, and then head back to your house for some sweet, tender lovemaking!”

 

Bong, bong, BONG.

 

“Woah!” America caught himself against the wall as the stairs beneath his feet shook with the sound of Big Ben ringing again. England’s face reddened again and he made a small choked sound in the back of his throat that America paid no attention to. “Must…ngh…it must be six o’clock.”

 

Quickly, America checked his watch. “…England…it’s only 5:56.”

 

“Well then, your watch must be slow or something!” The Briton snapped, scowling as he rubbed the back of his neck. But America wasn’t so convinced. Twice in a row…this was no mere coincidence. He grabbed England’s wrist and turned it over so he could peer at the other’s watch. It was…5:56.

 

“If my watch is slow, then yours is too.” America shoved the older man’s wrist in his face, showing him the time.

 

England blushed even harder before he swallowed, settling his face into a bored, almost blank expression. “S-so what? W-why does it even matter?” He swallowed again, appearing somewhat jittery, like a rabbit deep in the forest, on the lookout for danger. And America knew that there was more to this than what his lover was telling him. For though everyone said that he could not read the atmosphere, they were sorely mistaken. There was not much that escaped America’s notice, whether they liked it or not.

 

They began to move up the stairs again, England mute and almost pouting beside him as they climbed, and the silence grew nearly overwhelming. But as they walked in silence, America’s mind was working in overdrive.

 

Something really weird is going on with Iggy today. I mean, he’s acted so jumpy and nervous ever since we started sightseeing in this area. He blushes every time I say something in reference to the clock tower, and I could have sworn that he was about to have a heart attack when I asked to see Big Ben up close…. Wait a minute. He only ever acts like that when I’m saying something…provocative.... Maybe…just maybe…no…it’s impossible! …Isn’t it? I should ask him. But then he might get mad and I’ll have to sleep on the couch tonight again! Ugh…that’s the last thing I want! But I’ll never get any answers by staying quiet…and England always says that the only stupid questions are the ones not asked…so…

 

It was when they were nearing the top of the tower that America broke the pregnant silence. “Say England, what is Big Ben to you?”

 

England seemed to stiffen at the question. “E-eh? What do you m-mean?”

 

“Well, Big Ben must be something to you! I mean, my glasses are Texas…Nantucket is my hair flip, and Florida is my—”

 

“Okay! I get the bleeding picture!”

 

Oh man, it was hilarious when England blushed that hard. America almost wished he had a camera to capture the expression. It was just that good. But never mind that now. He could get all the pictures he wanted of Iggy later. But for now…he had a question that demanded an answer…one that would settle his suspicions one way or another. “England…?”

 

The Brit in question was quiet for a long time, and as they reached the top of the stairs, stepping out onto the platform just behind the face of Big Ben, America took the opportunity to grab his lover’s hand and pull him close for a tender kiss. “Tell me, England…please?” He whispered against compliant lips.

 

A gentle sigh escaped England, and he pulled away, biting his lower lip before speaking. “Big Ben to me…is like…like…Florida…to you.”

 

So what he’d suspected had been true. Score a point for the good ol’ U.S of A. “If that’s true…then…why is Big Ben ringing at such odd times? I mean, it might represent your cock, but it’s still just a building. ” He pointed out, barely able to conceal his grin in the fading light.

 

England glared up at him, his face redder than the stripes on the American flag. “N-n-no reason.” He pulled away from his lover’s grasp, moving to stare at one of the clock’s gears on the wall.

 

America couldn’t be fooled that easily, however, not when England was stuttering like a flighty schoolgirl. “Oh really?” He smirked, stepping up behind the Brit and wrapping his arms around his waist, kissing the lobe of his ear devilishly. “Then it won’t ring if I say that I want you writhing underneath of me right here, right now, inside of Big Ben?”

 

Another choked whimper, and then…BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG.

 

There it was. All the evidence that America needed. “So Big Ben rings when you get aroused, eh, Iggy?” He poked England’s cheek playfully, teasingly, as the poor island Nation blushed miserably. “So delightfully and incriminatingly convenient.”

 

“Shut up, you sodding wanker!” England snapped, though he didn’t try to pull out of America’s arms. “Wh-what is it to you, anyways?!”

 

The American shrugged, though he tightened his hold on his British lover, kissing his ear again. “Nothing really. It’s just rather interesting…and rather…arousing.”

 

“E-eh?! Th-this is utter bollocks! Come on, America, you’ve seen enough. Let’s just go…it’s time for supper.”

 

England tried this time to pull out of America’s arms, but the blonde only held him closer, and leaned in against his ear. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you right here, right now, England. I am the United States of America. I always get what I want, when I want it. You of all Nations should know this quite well.”

 

Stilling for a moment, England whimpered again, low in his throat. “Oh, bleeding hell…” But it was not a complaint…it was a sign of arousal…of submission. America had been around England long enough to know that breathless tone of voice. And as if to incriminate the tone even more, another loud ringing echoed throughout the tower, and America chuckled softly. “It seems Big Ben agrees with me, England.”

 

Slowly, he pushed England against the wall, desire turning his stomach into knots of anticipation. And the Briton did not even try to resist.

 

USxUK ~ USxUK ~ USxUk

 

“A-America…”

 

“England…where is your lubricant?”

 

England scowled at him from his current position, on the floor, legs splayed wide, a visual feast for America, and clothes tossed away to be remembered at a more convenient time. “I don’t have it, you idiot!”

 

America rolled his eyes, dumbfounded. “England, you’re the most perverse Nation on the planet! God, even France carries his with him wherever he goes!”

 

At the mention of the Frenchman, England’s eyes darkened with annoyance. “First of all, he is far more perverse than I ever shall be, and second of all, I am not like that fucking frog, nor will I ever be!”

 

America gaped, a response dying on his lips as England continued. “Furthermore, I don’t have it because I never would have thought that we’d be fucking inside my world-famous clock tower in the first place!”

 

This was on the way to becoming a full-scale rant. It needed to be stopped before the entire mood was broken and America lost his urge to fuck England. That would never, ever do. Ever. So he did the only thing he knew would cease the rapid-fire complaints that England was launching into. He leaned forward and nimbly stroked one finger across a decidedly thick, bushy eyebrow.

 

The reaction was instantaneous. England’s words choked off into a shrill cry of arousal that echoed through the building, sending vibrations of want and desire through America’s very veins. Even better, the Englishman went limp in his arms, fully submissive. Oh yes, fear the power of America’s greatest offensive weapon to a classic England-rant: touching his erogenous zone.

 

Lusty green eyes fluttered open and rolled back to look up at America, breathing having turned to soft pants. “D-damn you, you b-bastard…I should have known you’d—ngh…AHH!”

 

Another stroke to the eyebrows and the former British Empire was like putty in his hands.

 

Without any real lubricant, America would have to think fast. After looking around for a few moments, no real alternative jumped out at him, and he shrugged, tossing that idea out the window as he put his fingers to his lips, smirking inwardly as England gaped, open-mouthed. He sucked on one finger at a time, creating a show out of it, knowing what his perverse lover liked to see, until his fingers fairly dripped with his own saliva.

 

England could only clutch on to him as America began to prepare him, slowly, sweetly, as gentle as he could be, despite the raging need and desire within him.

 

And when America finally thrust into him, it was like coming home. Each resounding cry England made matched his lover’s grunts and moans of pleasure to a tee, the two of them moving as one unit, smooth, flowing, synchronized with the other.

 

Every kiss America placed to his jaw, his neck, his chest felt like fire on England’s sensitized skin, every suckle on his nipples felt like he was drowning in his own pleasure, never to resurface within sanity’s reach ever again. Why had he ever denied America of this earlier? Why was he so stubborn and reluctant when it felt this damn good?

 

And through it all, Big Ben had seen fit to harmonize its sweet ringing with England’s cries of pleasure, playing a song to match the lovemaking tango that the two nations were dancing to. From every thrust and kiss and touch and gasp, Big Ben played its song of joy, of love, capturing the very essence of their soul-felt union.

 

They were so close, thrusting and kissing and crying out each other’s names. England exploded first, his creamy white essence splattering with a wet sound all over their chests and stomachs. America followed suit once England clamped down hard around him, and his husky cry of relief signaled his release, as well as the wet warmth that filled England…made him feel so full and mushy and limp with love and adoration.

 

In the moments that followed, America lifted his sweaty head from England’s chest, pressed a kiss to his lips, and said “This was fun. We should totally do it more often. I mean, what’s better than letting the whole of London hear your arousal?”

 

Truth be told, the only unusual sound Londoners had heard that whole evening was the screeching cry of a certain blonde American as his British lover grabbed hold of a scrap piece of metal and brought it down on his head.

 

-End


((Please excuse my fail!smut...apparently I can only write it properly when I roleplay. ||OTL))