Olympics Fic Sprint
Title- Swing Swing
Rated- T for one minor suggestive comment
Word Count- 1, 275
Summary- America crashes the Olympics and England is not quite sure how he feels about that
A/N- please let me know if I'm doing this wrong xD also, congrats to Pars who actually won this xD
Swing Swing
This wasn't happening.
How did England not notice? He had the whole event planned out right in front of him. Sure he had been on a caffeine overdose and running on nothing but air and deadlines, but he should have noticed this. Maybe he was seeing things. In his efforts to try and make sure that the Queen stayed awake, he may have fallen asleep himself. He wished he could blame it on lucid dreaming; that he could wake up and realise that they were only on Uzbekistan or something.
But he blinked and he rubbed his eyes and he hung off the edge of his seat but he was still awake and he was still there.
Why was America with the competitors?
Nations were meant to stay on the sidelines. They got good seats reserved for it on one side of the stadium. There was not need for them to be out there; they all had a chance to wish their competitors luck in the hours previous if they wished to do so.
America was out there, walking and waving with the United States theme, a stupid smile on his face and a sports uniform on his body. England wanted to wipe that smile off of his face and rip that uniform off of his body- and no, he didn't mean that in a sexual way at all!
America was planning something; England knew it. Sure they were on reasonably good terms as of late, but that wouldn't stop America throwing it all away on some half thought out prank with billions of people watching that wasn't even amusing. America was going to make a show of him and there was nothing he could do.
England held his breath and America kept on waving, letting a few shouts out periodically until he disappeared out of sight around the stadium. He still waited for the crash; for the bang or screaming that was meant to come whenever America pulled his stunt. But nothing happened and England had to breathe again once his own team came out.
After the ceremony was done and his heart rate was reasonably neutral once again- it had been bad to begin with and America's stunt made it worse. God knows what his blood pressure was like- he made his way with hurried stomps and furrowed brow over to America.
America was chatting with other competitors and it should have been hard to spot him in the crowd of colours and faces of the competitors. However it wasn't, because America was loud and obnoxious and England could recognize his voice from a mile away if he wished to do so which, at that moment, he did.
"Amer-" England started before back tracking when he realised that some people were giving him strange glances, "Alfred, could I have a word for a moment, please?" Even when he was angry, England felt it was his duty to at least try and act like a gentleman. However, when America and a certain frog were concerned, it was quite difficult.
America must have caught on because, as he was pulled away by England from the crowd, he waggled his eyebrows. "Arthur, do you need something?" he asked with faux innocence while emphasizing England's name.
"Yes, I do," England growled, jabbing his finger into America's chest and the clingy material that surrounded it, "Why are you here? You're not meant to be here; you were meant to be in the stands!"
America blinked down at him before his face broke into an enormous grin once again. "Oh, I have my reasons," he laughed and England felt slightly faint at the thought of what those reasons could be. Damn his blood pressure.
America's hand wove its way around England's neck as it settled in a rest on his shoulder, pulling at the wool of his jumper that nestled there. England suppressed a shiver and if it was for any other reason other than America's inhumanly warm arm against his breeze assaulted neck then he would deny it. America's other hand pulled off his own glasses and tucked them into England's polo shirt, him bumping his nose against England's as he did so.
"Keep Texas safe for me!" he chuckled as he wormed his way back into the crowd and left England feeling slightly chilly and more than slightly worried.
-x-
England should have saw it coming.
In fact, he had been oblivious to when he would next see America up until the announcement of the start of the finals for the hammer started. That was when it hit home and his suspicions were just confirmed when America walked out into the arena with a cheer and a grin.
England made some noise that was incomprehensible, even to him and especially to the poor person sitting next to him who edged away in their seat slowly. His heels dug into the floor as America took the hammer in one hand without even breaking a sweat. His knuckles turned white as he fisted his hands up in his trousers and in his shirt under the glasses and America's grip slackened in the arena.
The ball and strap was flung through the air and England didn't even realise he was holding his breath.
The stadium was completely silent.
America had thrown it one hundred metres.
And then the place erupted and England could breathe as he wrapped his hand around America's glasses.
-x-
America naturally got gold and the commentators were naturally speechless, especially as it seemed- and England knew that things sometimes were what they seemed- as though America had barely even tried. He got himself a cheer and a medal around his neck and England lost him somewhere in a crowd of newly acquired fans and other sportsmen.
Hours later, England opened his door to find America on his doorstep and he regarded him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
"So that was your plan," he said, trying to sound nonchalant as America grinned from ear to ear, thumbing the medal that still hung around his neck.
"It was," he admitted and he reached out. England stiffened when America's fingers clasped at his collar and he breathed a sigh- of relief or reluctance?- as the fingers took Texas from their position on his polo shirt.
"I'm not sure if that should even be counted," England said then, a blurt that was just one of the many things that could have spewed from his mouth in his attempt to forget America's close proximity to him. He continued when America regarded him with confusion over the top of his reacquired glasses. "I mean, you have superhuman strength and it really wasn't fair on any of the other competitors so you should probably-"
He stopped when the cool metal feel hit off of his own chest. He blinked up at America and then at the medal he was currently wrapping around his neck. If there was a hint of red in America's cheeks and a touch of awkwardness in that grin, England doesn't see it.
"You're right," America said then, his fingers lingering on the medal and on England's chest by association, "Some people do deserve this more than me. Congrats on a great Olympics this year."
America's fingers dart away before England's own can wrap around the medal and possibly brush off of them and America has darted away before England can complain or even act grateful.
If England slept with that medal on that night it was only because he was proud of himself for a job well done and definitely not because he was proud of America.
|END|