America x Reader: Snowfall's touch.

Snowfall.

Peaceful, the stuff was. You found that even if you sat still for hours on end - the seconds ticking by as slowly as each snowflake gently fluttered - you were never bored, staring out that breath-fogged windowpane. The white expanse spread before you was like an invigorating wonderland - no, it /was/ an invigorating wonderland. Absolutely breathtaking.

However, just because you weren't bored, didn't mean that everyone else was as compliant as you.

Specifically, Alfred.

"............... Al."
You muttered, just as you felt yet another warm fingertip prodding at your back, silently asking for attention as it had been doing so for a good hour or so - no. How long had the two of you been sitting here? Ah well, it didn't matter. You'd lost count of the time once again. Had you left your watch at home?
A quick glance at your wrist indicated that you had;
Twice you felt the poking sensation - clearly, he still wasn't relenting.

"Whaaaaat...?" Was the faintly whiny retort quickly offered, a certain American's bubbly tone indicating an obvious pout. Once more, a finger nudged, just below your shoulder-blade. Your eyebrow twitched.

"Don't you, "Whaaaaat" me! You've been doing this practically the whole week!"

As you exclaimed this, you swiftly turned around in your chair so that you sat backward - legs either side, your knees loosely nudging each wooden arm. Huffing faintly, out of habit, you crossed your arms over your chest - frowning a little up at the tall, boisterous-in-nature nation.

Said nation's response was to merely grin - lop-sidedly, infuriatingly charming as he scratched at one of his cold-flushed cheeks, a little sheepish. Cerulean orbs glimmering, they focused  within your own in always unprecedented clarity and youth; Texas tilted, as messy as his dirt-blonde fringe obviously ruffled.

Damn this pretty-boy.

"... Heh...~ Sorry, ______~! I'm just bored! How the hell can you stand staring out at that snow all day?" The blonde man chuckled in a smooth tone, voice rolling in his usual accent that you'd long come to know and love.

"How the hell can /you/ stand the whole day asking questions and poking people in the back?" A swift retort you offered, mildly irked - but the way your heart thumped from merely his crooked smile and familiar tonality caused one of your own to faintly tilt across your lips. You really couldn't stay mad at Alfred, of all people.

Not when you loved him this much. Not that he knew, of course.
Or so you thought.

You'd both been friends for as long as you could honestly remember. Years and years ago - in New York City - you had quite literally bumped into the now familiarly dirt-blonde American, the two of your running in opposing directions; you had been very late for a job interview, whilst Alfred has been late for a meeting with the personification of Britain - whom nowadays you knew to be called 'Arthur'.
With bubbly, hearty laughter, he'd tugged you up to your own two feet - strong and warm, just like the faintly tanned hands gripping at each of your shoulders.
Staring into his eyes of crystalline blue - each one shimmering with pure, happy-go-lucky nature - it'd been love at first sight, your gaze so bold in colour growing absolutely widespread.
Not that you'd known at the time. It'd been hot - you'd put the thick flush that'd spread across your cheekbones down to the summer weather, the way your heart skipped its steady beating due to momentary adrenaline rush.
Not love.
But that was something you couldn't deny, not now. And it was getting harder and harder even look your beloved American in the eye.

Hot-skinned, faintly rough arms enveloping your entire firm - pulling you back against a taut, strong chest - snapped you straight from your reminiscing thoughts.

Your breath abruptly hitched, head partially snapping with absolute shock; before it was pushed down against a sweet-scented collarbone, calloused fingers gently pushed within your soft locks to execute the maneuver. Automatically, your heart began to race, cheeks splashing the deepest red physically possible.

"... A... Alfre--"

" ________."

Stating your name in an unexpectedly firm tone, you found yourself with Alfred's torso curving over - you being forced to curl up a little more, face fully pressed against his warm, familiar skin. Shivering from being so close, you gulped, finally falling silent.

"... _ - _____... Listen, I...."

His voice was so hesitant, so young, it caused you to hold your breath - listening to its rich tone, the way it shook with the apparent weight of what he was about to disclose, you aprehensively dared to peek up at this suddenly changed-in-demeanor man;
Baby-blue orbs hardly even open with apparent uncertainty, his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose as flushed an overly dark red, standing out amidst his ruffled blonde fringe.
Your fingers curled at his chest, tightly.

"... I think I... Might..."

The seconds ticking by faster and faster, you felt practically lightheaded as you stared, anticipating his response - throat tight and becoming parched.

".... Y... You......?"

Was your quiet questioning, oddly calmed.

He tensed right up, biting a little at his pink, bottom lip.

Was this what you thought it was going to be? Was this really happening?

".... I  might want icecream."

He nodded firmly, dramatically squeezing you within his embrace with a sudden look of childish determination.

You mentally slapped yourself.
Right.
Of course.
Icecream.

[ To be continued in part 2--]