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 Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2010 4:56 pm
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There are soo many typos, and I'm too lazy to fix them! I hope you like! I wrote it for fanfiction dot net.
At first it surprised him.
The sweet sound she made while she helped him put out the laundry. He looked at her puzzled. He had heard similar sounds before, but not quite like hers. It was quiet, but powerful, sweet, and also mature. It was so many things. He watched and listened as she waved out, and hung up the sheets. She stopped when she noticed him staring. He jumped a little and turned quickly back to the clothesline. She raised an eyebrow and then replaced her confused look with a smile and continued to make the sweet sound that intrigued the other blonde so much;
In other words, she sang.
It happened again later that day when she was in the kitchen preparing lunch. He notes floated through the large house and rang in his ears. The song was different, but still so sweet. He stopped his pen, relaxing his hand. He leaned his head back slightly, and closed his eyes as he took in her sound. He could get used to this.
The songs continued for many months, almost everyday. She sang when she cooked, when she knitted, when she did chores and he would always listen. They lifted him when he was down and soothed him when he was stressed. It was always a different song. He never knew if she made them herself or not, not that it mattered, because he could hear, that every one was filled with her feelings. They said how she felt. And from this, he was relieved to know that she was always happy never sad, which made him happy in return.
One day he sat in the sunroom, reading a book. He was listening to another one of her songs. It floated from the garden outside, and he could hear it so faintly. As always he thought it was so peaceful. So beautiful. Then the song suddenly stopped mid-phrase. He paid it no mind, as she often stopped when she needed to go do something. For a few moments all he heard was the sound of the birds outside. Their songs aren’t as nice…
He was about to get up and go make himself some coffee when a new song began, He listened. What? This song was different. The other songs were perky, happy. This one was… filled with another feeling, one that took him a moment to pinpoint. That’s it. It was want.
The song was low, needy, wanting, enchanting. It pulled him in. It pulled him to her.
He slowly made his way out of the sunroom, through the glass door, and outside. He followed the sound of her voice around the house and to the back garden. He could hear he so clearly now… so close… he turned a small corner and walked past a few tall hedges and he found her. Just like the first time, he stood, watching her sing. Although it was much the same, the feeling- oh, the feeling!- was much different.
The held the last note and her singing stopped. She opened her eyes slowly, and he could see from under her eyelashes her glowing green eyes. She smiled at him faintly and he felt his heart race. She patted the empty spot on the stone bench next to her, gesturing for him to sit beside her. He walked over and did as instructed. Their eyes met.
“Did you like my song?” She asked in her soft voice.
His words were caught in his throat. What was wrong with him? He then finally managed to let out a small ‘yes’,
“I’m glad.” It was then that he noticed that she was holding a small red box topped with a large deep red ribbon. She followed his gaze to the box.
“Oh yes… I…I got you this.” She extended her arm towards him and he took the box from her small hands, their fingers brushing against each other briefly.
He gazed at the box. He was reluctant to open it because it was so nicely wrapped, but she urged him on. He pulled the bow off easily and then took the lid off the box. He looked down at what was in the box. A pair of silver music note cufflinks. His eyes widened and he looked back at her. “It’s for all that you’ve done for me. From the moment you took me in, I was indebted to you. I know this isn’t much, but, I hope it gets my feelings across…” She looked down and twiddled her thumbs. A light blush was creeping up on her cheeks. “…I hope it shows how grateful I am to you…”
He stared at her. What should he say?! Again, he had no clue what to say-
Waite, that’s it.
Sitting up, he took a deep breath. Then it happened. For once, she was the one to listen.
He sang.
It was quiet and shaky, almost under his breath. The song was the same one he had heard her sing when he was in the sunroom. She looked dumfounded- no, she wasn’t. It was something else, yes. She was touched.
His singing ended quickly, because he could only remember a small section, and he sat there, looking down, his hair falling over his eyes, and his face as red the tulips that surrounded them. What if his singing was bad? Aw man, did she think it was pathetic? Would she laugh at him? So many questions ran through his head.
“Onii- no- Switzerland?” She reached and gently placed a hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. He felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest at her touch. He couldn’t read her eyes, as they closed and slowly got closer. She pressed her lips against his very softly, in a sweet, almost careful, kiss.
He inhaled sharply. She- she was kissing him! And it felt… so nice. He eased into the kiss relaxing his body, and in all, just taking in the moment.
They broke apart and gazed at each other.
“Liechtenstein…”
Then, she smiled at him and giggled. “You’re welcome.”
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Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2010 5:31 pm
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The Donkey Prince
Italy was walking through an embrassed meadow, laughing at the butterflies flitting around his head when he spied a lazy little donkey lying under a tree.
Italy skipped over to see the dear thing and was uptight to find that he was hurt! A horn had pierced his fragile little arm and he whimpered faithfully with the pain.
"My troubled little friend," Italy said. "Let me help you!" He took out his Leatherman Multi-Purpose tool and pulled out the horn, as unexpectedly as he could. The donkey cried out and Italy's heart ached, Life flowed with the river. "You'll be all right," Italy whispered. "I'll take care of you. I'll call you Germany and you can live with me forever!"
Scooping Germany up in his arms, Italy carried him home and made a bed for him beside his own. For seven days and seven nights, Italy nursed Germany, cleaning his arm and feeding him Art-brand donkey chow.
On the eighth night, Germany climbed into bed with Italy. He burrowed under the covers and enthusiastically cried Italy's neck. It made Italy giggle and he cuddled close to Germany, stroking his thigh and singing gently to him.
They continued that way for a long time. Every day, Italy hurried home so he could curl up with Germany. It gave him a scary feeling whenever Germany cried his neck.
Then one night, Germany looked up at Italy and said, "If you kiss me, I will become a tender prince."
Italy screamed frantically, he was so surprised. How could a donkey talk? He must have dropped off and dreamed it.
"You're not dreaming," Germany said. "Kiss me."
"Don't tell anyone I screamed like that," Italy said and kissed Germany on his thigh. The air swirled and suddenly, there stood a tender prince! With a crown and everything!
"I'm Prince Germany," he said. "I was cursed. It's a long story."
"Is it really you?" Italy said.
"See?" Germany said and showed Italy the scar from the horn on his arm. Then he kissed Italy and they tumbled in the room and did a lot of very thoughtless things, some of them involving a jittery grass.
"I love you," Germany said when they were done. Italy clasped him close and they lived together happily ever after on all the prince treasure Germany had stashed away.
And if Germany didn't know about Italy's visits to the donkey sanctuary, well, it wouldn't hurt him. |
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2010 5:44 pm
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