Title: I’ll Be Home For Christmas
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, surprise!guests, USUK
Warnings: Kissing, gay marriage, implied sexual content, a little bit of language, and tons of fluff!
Summary: The ice storms on America’s East Coast seem to keep England from spending the holidays with his new husband after America is called to a last-minute meeting. But can a wish and a miracle save their Christmas after all?
So I took inspiration from the supposed icestorm we’re supposed to be getting here on the East Coast on Christmas Day, and put it to my OTP pairing of like, forever. Yeah. And this was born. I hope you all like it. :3
And yes, I just had to put this to an AU setting where America and England are married. I liked the idea, because the idea of them being married just makes me squeal with fangirl delight. <3
Merry Christmas everyone!
Never before had Christmas lights and the smell of an evergreen candle failed to pull England into the Christmas mood. Never before had he felt so down during the most merriest of seasons than he did right now.
Walking the length of the living room, he sighed into the little silver cell phone held to his ear. “Are you sure there are no other flights you can catch, America? It’s Christmas Eve after all.”
The voice on the other line, so comforting and familiar, crackled with the static of a typical landline. His husband had forgotten his cell phone. Again. Sometimes, England swore that America would forget his head if it wasn’t decently attached to his shoulders.
“Believe me, England…I’ve tried. I’ve checked every flight schedule from American Airlines to US Airways…there’s nothing flying out of Baltimore, Washington…anywhere. Not tonight or tomorrow at least. There’s just too much ice.”
The sick feeling in England’s stomach made him wonder if this was what it really felt like to have your heart sink to your toes. Of course, literally speaking, the idea was preposterous, but still…
“Of course.” He faintly heard himself replying woodenly. “The first order of business is public safety.” His emerald eyes stung, and he scrubbed at them furiously. Even here, in the privacy of the England-based home he shared with America when they travelled back to his homeland, he would not cry. To cry would be not only pointless, but it would also hurt America even further. The man already sounded two words away from breaking down in tears.
And who could blame him? After all, this was their first Christmas as a married couple. Of course, they’d want to spend it together. Damn America’s winter weather. And damn his boss for demanding a last-minute meeting regarding that fucking health care bill. Because of it, America had sent England ahead on their original flight, claiming that he’d be on the next flight out from Washington to Heathrow.
Neither of them had counted on the weather, however.
Now America was stuck at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, waiting for the first available flight out. And England was home alone on Christmas Eve, without his husband.
Well fuck their lives.
“England? You still there, babe?”
The broken voice on the other end brought England back out of his musings, and he sighed again. “Yes, I am.”
There was more static over the line, and the Brit had to strain to hear his lover’s voice for a moment. “I’ll keep doing all I can, love. I promise you that. But…I’m so sorry about this. I wish that I would have just told my boss to—“
“America, saying such things will only get you into trouble. Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep everything here, untouched and unwrapped until you come home.”
More silence over the phone, and then a soft laugh. England could almost see the tiny crinkles at the corners of America’s baby blue eyes as he smiled, and as he closed his eyes, it was so easy to imagine that the man he loved more than life and Nationhood itself was here with him, holding him and cuddling him as they sipped hot cocoa together in front of the fire’s glow. Stealing a few kisses here and there. Watching their beloved Labrador puppies, Union Jack and Liberty Bell, play together on the carpet with a Christmas bow off of one of the brightly-wrapped gifts under the tree….
But when England opened his eyes again, all he saw were the pups asleep in their basket, and he was alone, sitting on the couch in front of dying embers from the fireplace. Another lump rose in his throat, and he was hasty to swallow it back.
“Let’s hope for a Christmas miracle, England. Let’s hope real hard. After all, this IS the season for stuff like that, right?” Another laugh. “Well, I’ve gotta go. Other people need the phone. So…I’ll talk to you very soon, okay?”
No. England wanted so say. Don’t hang up the phone. Stay on it. Make me think you’re here with me… But the Briton did not say any of that. Instead, he swallowed back another lump and nodded, though he knew the American could not see it. “Very well. I will talk to you at a better time, okay?”
There was a pause, then a very affectionate, but choked-up, “So much, England…love you so much.”
“I…I love you too, you git. Now get going. Leave the lines open.” England replied brusquely, but without the usual bite to his words. No, his tone could not be discerned as anything but affectionate. Well, affectionate for him anyways.
“Bye, England…I’ll try to call you…tomorrow.”
“Okay. Goodbye, luv.” England whispered before the static turned into a dial-tone in his ear. Mechanically he shut the cell phone and set it on the end table, curling up on the loveseat and pressing a pillow to his chest. Union Jack perked up his reddish-yellow head, dark eyes observing his master’s mood before getting up and hopping onto the couch to lay beside the distraught Englishman. It wasn’t long before his sister did the same thing, crawling across her brother to lay on England’s lap.
Momentarily, England was comforted by the dogs, long fingers stroking soft puppy fur, as the embers continued to burn dimly, reflecting off the tears on his cheeks that he allowed to fall at last.
“I wish…I wish that America could be here right now.” He whispered, heart aching with the simple words. Oh, if only miracles could really happen…
The house was cold when America opened the door. It was decided that he would wait at home until the runways were clear of ice and snow, then the airport would call him when the first available flight to London was announced. He shivered as he flicked on the light, taking in the comfortable familiarity of his own home.
But yet…even as his blue eyes roved the well-known nooks and crannies of his home, it didn’t seem like home to him. Not without his beloved England. Not without the piercing shrieks and obscenities that England would hurl at him as America teased him mercilessly. Not without the odd smells as England tried to cook something. And definitely not without the warmth of their love.
America sighed sadly, resigning himself to the fact that he and his husband would not be together this Christmas after all, as they’d hoped.
He dumped his bags in the front room and went upstairs, kicking off his shoes along the way, something England daily berated him for, and yet another reminder that the Briton was not there.
Opening the door to their bedroom, America breathed in the familiar smell of England’s cologne, his own cheeseburgers, and the faintest, musky scent of the love they’d made yesterday morning, before England had caught the flight back to his homeland, leaving America to deal with the politicians on Capitol Hill.
Tears filled the blonde Nation’s eyes as he collapsed on their bed, on England’s side, holding his British lover’s pillow to his nose and breathing in the sweet scent of rain, scones, tea, and sweat. England’s personal scent.
“I wish that England and I could be together for Christmas…” He whispered into the empty air before grabbing getting up, grabbing England’s pillow and their comforter and padding back down the stairs to the den, where he built a small fire in the fireplace and curled up on the couch, staring aimlessly into the building flames. Baby blues flickered to the Christmas tree that he and England had decorated last week, all in red, white, and blue. The lights twinkled merrily, but did little to brighten America’s dismal mood.
America didn’t even know that he’d fallen asleep until he was being startled awake by the strangest of sounds. He blinked his bleary eyes open, noticing right away that the fire had gone out.
“That’s strange…” He muttered, glancing at the clock, and noting that only a few hours had passed. The fire couldn’t have completely gone out in only that short amount of time…
And then, to his left, there was that sound again. The American sat up and looked toward the tree, gasping slightly when he saw what was making said sound. “S-Santa?!” He squeaked.
The figure stiffened for a moment before straightening and turning towards him. In the faint light from the lamp he’d left on at the far end of the room, America could make out familiar features.
“Finland! What are you doing here?!”
“Moi moi, America! I’m here to deliver your Christmas wish!” A cheerful voice chirped through the darkness. “I was going to deliver your gifts here, but now I figure that there would be no point, as you’re going to open them with England anyways…”
Shock flitted through America’s mind. What was Finland talking about?
The Finn must have been able to read the confusion on America’s face, for he laughed. “Didn’t I say that I was going to grant your Christmas wish? You and England both made a special Christmas Eve wish…and who am I to deny such a wonderful wish? I’ll personally take you to England to be with your lover for Christmas.”
For once in his life, America was actually stricken dumb for a few moments. Could it be true? “Would you…would you actually do that?!” He choked out, jumping up in earnest.
“Of course! I would want someone to do me the same favor if it were Su-san and I in your places.” Finland smiled, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “Now come on! Grab your bags and your coat, and we’ll be on our way!”
Quickly, America did as he was told. And before he could say “Jingle Bells!” , Finland had taken them to the roof. And yet again, America was left speechless. For there, on his roof, were eight tiny reindeer and a sleigh. And in the front seat of that sleigh, there was even an elf!
“Hey, America! We’re taking you back to that jerk England! So get in!”
Oh wait. That was only Sealand, dressed up as an elf.
Eagerly, America clambered into the sleigh, throwing his bags into the back once Finland had put his giant bag to rest there first. Finland settled into his seat, picking up the reins, and slapping them across the backs of the deer.
And miraculously, they lifted into the air, speeding through the bitter, icy night. America nearly laughed out loud as they left the city of Washington behind, lights becoming dark ocean, as they sped towards the island Nation that America loved so much.
England had long since made himself a cup of hot cocoa, warding off all desire to sleep, and had taken to staring at the dancing flames of the fire he’d rebuilt for himself, one hand still stroking Union Jack’s fur as the puppies slept beside him.
Everything had turned peaceful. The only sound that broke the stillness was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Not to mention the tinkling of sleigh bells and the soft muted thud on the roof…
Wait…on the roof?!
England slowly put down his cup, heart starting to pound a little bit more. But before he could take two deep breaths, there was a knock at the door. Then another knock. Then an insistent pounding in a familiar rhythm. Gracious…only America ever knocked like that…
The Briton found himself at the door before he’d even comprehended that he’d moved, and slowly unlocked the door. Opening it just a crack, he was greeted with the most welcome sight in the entire World…
“Merry Christmas, love.”
And suddenly, the door was flung open, and England had an armful of American body mass tackling him against the wall, lips all over his face and hair and lips…oh, bloody bollocks, was he dreaming? What had he put in the cocoa?
“America…how?” England gasped as America’s lips found his again, slow and tender and never-ceasing.
A deep rumbling laugh travelled from his husband’s throat to his lips, vibrating them in a way that set England’s heart to racing and his skin ablaze with love and desire.
“It’s a long story, but to make it short, you’re going to have to thank Santa.” America chuckled against British lips again before pulling back to gaze at his spouse affectionately. “I told you I would do anything I could to make it home to you…and all I had to do was make a Christmas wish. And here I am. I’m home for Christmas, Iggy…here with you.”
So it wasn’t a dream. America was real. He was here. And it was Christmas morning. Early, though it was, it was still Christmas morning. England’s heart was full to overflowing with happiness as his lover’s lips found his again.
Meanwhile, outside, looking in through the window, Finland put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Let’s go, young man. You have to get to bed. Tomorrow is a big day, and I’m sure Su-san will have breakfast waiting for us nice and early.”
So the pair left the kissing couple in their cozy living room and hurried back up to the sleigh. And the last thing America and England heard before they let their love and passion overtake them were the faint words “Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!”
So miracles really did happen on Christmas after all…