A Story To Tell - Boyxboy Oneshots/Drabbles

An Angel's Embrace - Hetalia

Title: An Angel's Embrace

Fandom: Hetalia

Summary: Just a short drabble about angels.

Pairing/s: America/England

Disclaimer: Don’t own anything

Warnings: None

AN: Ah, a rather short drabble, I suppose. It just popped into my head and I had to get it down. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to post it as someone might like it. Please let me know if you did!

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America believed in angels.

For as long as he could remember, he felt as if he had an angelic guardian watching over him. He never spoke such words, as he was a scientific man first and foremost. But deep within his heart of hearts, he knew that angels existed. Be they angelic beings from the heavenly realm, or humans walking the earth as compassionate and gentle healers.

With so much evil in the world, they were sometimes easy to overlook, to forget. But it was during times of hardship, of unspeakable human destruction, was he sure to remind himself that angels existed. Look for the helpers in the times of tragedy, watch for the heroes running into danger in the aid of others, see them perform miracles as they save the life of a stranger.

Watch them, learn from them, heal with them.

He often dreamed of angels.

His dreams were comforting, particularly after an exhausting and draining day.

Just before he would drift off to sleep, America would feel it; a warmth so gentle, so calming, as it washed over him. Like a blanket, but far softer. It was a light feeling, like the wings of an angel encircling him, holding him, protecting him.

And sometimes, in his dreams, he would see feathers so white and fluffy. A pair of arms would encircle him from behind, falling over his shoulders to rest on his collarbone as a light weight rested against his back. A voice would whisper words of love and light to him. Acceptance, reassurance, comfort. Words that he sometimes needed to hear, needed to be reminded of.

They were the dreams he loved the most. There was no fear, no concerns. The only way he could accurately describe the feeling in human terms was that it felt loving. There was nothing hiding, no motive. Nothing but the purist freedom and love he had ever felt.

Only in his dreams could he experience such feeling – a true Angel’s embrace.

Except when he was with England. Be it when he rested his head on his lap, England running his pale, slender fingers through his hair. His touch was soft, like a feather almost. And yet America could feel it. It was strong, but gentle.

Or when he fell into bed, his soothing presence weighing down one side of the bed, his own head rested comfortably on America’s chest, his arm draped so easily across his torso.

It was at these silent moments he knew who his angel was – in the dream world and the real world.

It was England.

England was his angel.

Though his power as an empire had all but disappeared, his strength evolved into something far more gentle, but more powerful. The past had been and gone, the present was here and now. He was a healer, nurturer, a Wiseman.

That in itself was true power. That was the power of an angel.

And it was all he really needed.