ext_49766 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
silvey.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2010-03-16 12:12 am
silvey.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-03-16 12:12 am
Entry tags:
Fanfiction - England/France - 5am in the dark
Title: 5am in the dark
Author/Artist: Silvey
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, France, England/France
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: England wakes up at 5am. A bit of domestic fluff. Came from the idea that real imtimacy lies not in the large acts but the small ones.
He wakes at 5am to find the covers pulled away and his bladder full to bursting. If he was even a little more spiteful he would have stolen the blankets but, as it was, he left France curled up like a worm and padded of to the bathroom. At least it was his own house this time, he bloody hated trying to navigate France’s house in the dark. Not that France had as much stuff around as England, but he kept it in such stupid places!
He was careful to avoid the third board on the landing that creaked when you stepped on it and managed to make it to the bathroom without incident. Once he pulled the cord for the bathroom light he felt better. There was something about your own bathroom at 5am that was incredibly reassuring. He could never really relax at 5am in other people’s bathrooms. It felt oddly like a violation to be in there so late at night.
He relieved himself quickly then found himself sitting on the toilet, which quickly proved to be a mistake. Even in the few seconds he sat there he felt sleep teasing at his eyes. If only the bed he was going back to wasn’t so cold he could use it to motivate himself to get up and go back.
France’s underwear was in the sink. The sink, being in his rather limited line of vision, drew a lot of his attention. Of course he remembered how they ended up there...but really, couldn’t that damn frog do anything for himself? With an exaggerated sigh England stood up and picked up the offending garment then folded it and placed it on top of the washing basket where France’s other clothes had been dumped earlier.
Dumped! Did that man have no sense of the value of things?
Working on auto-pilot England picked up and folded the clothes. The shirt and the trousers and the tie. He found himself running the tie through his fingers. It was so soft, so neat. A plain deep blue that suited France so well.
He must be tired to think things like this.
With a sigh he dropped the tie and turned back to the now-clear sink, washed his hands quickly and stumbled back towards the hall.
He left the bathroom light on so he could see and went to the airing cupboard, grabbing a spare blanket before turning of the bathroom light and creeping back towards the bedroom. Better to be warm the easy way then start a fight with France at this hour.
When he got back to the bedroom he found France’s bedside light on, the other man was blinking at him blearily from his cocoon of blankets.
“Are you ok?” he asked, sleep making his voice slow and heavy.
“Of course,” England mumbled,” just had to use the bathroom...”
France nodded and then kicked out a little, uncurling the blankets from around himself and spreading them to England’s side of the bed. England acknowledged the gesture with a nod though he dropped the spare blankets he’d brought at his side of the bed, sure he’d need them soon. He gratefully slid under the blanket, warmed by France’s body.
“Turn the light of,” Arthur grumbled, his body becoming heavy already in anticipation of the sleep. Francis made a strange noise but turned the light out. A few second later France kissed England’s forehead sloppily in the dark.
“Sleep well, England.”
“Sure, Frog,” England mumbled, shifting a little closer to France’s body heat as sleep took him again.
Author/Artist: Silvey
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, France, England/France
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: England wakes up at 5am. A bit of domestic fluff. Came from the idea that real imtimacy lies not in the large acts but the small ones.
He wakes at 5am to find the covers pulled away and his bladder full to bursting. If he was even a little more spiteful he would have stolen the blankets but, as it was, he left France curled up like a worm and padded of to the bathroom. At least it was his own house this time, he bloody hated trying to navigate France’s house in the dark. Not that France had as much stuff around as England, but he kept it in such stupid places!
He was careful to avoid the third board on the landing that creaked when you stepped on it and managed to make it to the bathroom without incident. Once he pulled the cord for the bathroom light he felt better. There was something about your own bathroom at 5am that was incredibly reassuring. He could never really relax at 5am in other people’s bathrooms. It felt oddly like a violation to be in there so late at night.
He relieved himself quickly then found himself sitting on the toilet, which quickly proved to be a mistake. Even in the few seconds he sat there he felt sleep teasing at his eyes. If only the bed he was going back to wasn’t so cold he could use it to motivate himself to get up and go back.
France’s underwear was in the sink. The sink, being in his rather limited line of vision, drew a lot of his attention. Of course he remembered how they ended up there...but really, couldn’t that damn frog do anything for himself? With an exaggerated sigh England stood up and picked up the offending garment then folded it and placed it on top of the washing basket where France’s other clothes had been dumped earlier.
Dumped! Did that man have no sense of the value of things?
Working on auto-pilot England picked up and folded the clothes. The shirt and the trousers and the tie. He found himself running the tie through his fingers. It was so soft, so neat. A plain deep blue that suited France so well.
He must be tired to think things like this.
With a sigh he dropped the tie and turned back to the now-clear sink, washed his hands quickly and stumbled back towards the hall.
He left the bathroom light on so he could see and went to the airing cupboard, grabbing a spare blanket before turning of the bathroom light and creeping back towards the bedroom. Better to be warm the easy way then start a fight with France at this hour.
When he got back to the bedroom he found France’s bedside light on, the other man was blinking at him blearily from his cocoon of blankets.
“Are you ok?” he asked, sleep making his voice slow and heavy.
“Of course,” England mumbled,” just had to use the bathroom...”
France nodded and then kicked out a little, uncurling the blankets from around himself and spreading them to England’s side of the bed. England acknowledged the gesture with a nod though he dropped the spare blankets he’d brought at his side of the bed, sure he’d need them soon. He gratefully slid under the blanket, warmed by France’s body.
“Turn the light of,” Arthur grumbled, his body becoming heavy already in anticipation of the sleep. Francis made a strange noise but turned the light out. A few second later France kissed England’s forehead sloppily in the dark.
“Sleep well, England.”
“Sure, Frog,” England mumbled, shifting a little closer to France’s body heat as sleep took him again.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I needed something like this
Thank you.