lady_phenyx (lady_phenyx) wrote in aph_fluffathon,

[Fic] Autumn Date

For: archangelunmei
Request: I'd like to see something where France, England, Canada and America are in a committed poly-amorous relationship. Specifically, I'd like to see them going out to some autumn event together (a haunted house for Halloween, a harvest party, a fall hayride, something like that) and how they handle that in light of the fact that it's a six-pairing relationship. Do all four of them stay together as a group for the night? Do they break off into couples? Which couples and why? Do they shuffle halfway through so everyone gets to have fun with everyone? I just want to see how the dynamics work between them all, especially in public.
Characters/Pairings: France, England, Canada, America
Summary: It's been awhile since all four members of the FACE foursome have been together, and America has a great idea for a group date - a haunted hayride, sleepover, and a fall harvest festival.
Rating: G
Warnings: Poly-amoroury

“…we don’t have to go on the hayride, Amérique”, France commented, glancing to the passenger seat where America was starting to shake as they came up on the farm.

“I’m a hero, I can handle it,” America protested. “And it was my idea anyway.”

“America, we all know you can barely handle ghost movies, let alone a haunted hayride. Why are you dragging us out here?” England asked irritably, though he sounded less irritable than he usually was when America insisted on doing something ill-advised, like watching a scary movie. America twisted in his seat to look into the back, where Canada was leaning up against England, who was idly running his hand through Canada’s soft wavy hair, hence the only mild irritability.

“But I wanted to see both of you, and so did Canada! I mean, I love him loads, but I love you guys too and you’re over in Europe while we’re over here and…and…and…”

“And so you chose a haunted attraction for our first group date in a year,” Canada finished flatly. America beamed.

“Yeah, it’ll be great!”

“…we aren’t even there yet and you’re shaking.” Canada groaned as he buried his face in England’s shoulder and America shrugged, grinning.

“…and when they got into the wagon with us! Oh man, that was intense!”

“I believe I missed that part, cher.”

“That’s because you were making out with Canada. Honestly, you couldn’t wait until we were back in the car?”

“It was so cool! C’mon, even you were scared England, don’t lie, I heard you scream!”

“That would be when France tried to grope me,” England protested, “and it was shock, not fear.”

“…I didn’t try to grope you on the hayride, Angleterre,” France protested. “Amerique, yes, but you were too far away.”

“Then who…” England turned to look at Canada, who shrugged and smirked slightly.

“Couldn’t resist.”

At America’s house, England looked at the giant bed with amused tolerance. America’s bedroom, down the hall, had a large enough bed, but this thing looked like it could fit six full grown adults. It was like America to buy such a huge bed just for when all four of them were at his house. France and Canada were already in the bed, snuggled down under the covers and murmuring in French.

“Do you like it?” America asked hopefully from behind England. “Nice old man pajamas, by the way.”

England scowled down at his plaid pajamas. “These are not old man pajamas, America! At least some of us have adult sleepwear,” he added, glaring at America’s rocket-print pajama pants. America laughed and scooped England up, spinning them in circles and ignoring England’s curses and protests (mostly about the spinning) as he threw them both onto the bed.

Canada woke early and quickly, as he usually did, feeling warm and tangled. England was cuddling him, head under his chin, arms over his chest and leg thrown over his, though he’d never admit he did it when he was awake. Canada loved it when he woke up with England wrapped around him like a warm English bow – it made him feel safe and loved. France’s arm was thrown over his shoulder, hand resting on England’s back as he tucked himself close to Canada’s back. On England’s other side, America shifted in his sleep. He had been up with nightmares just as the others had predicted, but hanging onto England like he was a giant teddy bear seemed to help. England was missing his shirt, Canada noticed with amusement. America must have snitched it. He was getting good at that.

For a minute he just lay there, basking in the warmth and closeness of his lovers. There were days he could hardly believe they had all agreed to try being together like this. They got jealous, and they had to talk about things far more than some of them, England in particular, were comfortable with to make it work, but it did. America had someone who knew he was more than a hamburger-eating airhead, France had lovers who looked at him as a person and not a bed-hopping toy, England had someone who was willing to look past his angry exterior, and he was acknowledged as himself and not just America’s shadow. They still argued, still fought and bickered, but they loved and trusted each other. For a minute more Canada basked in their warmth, in the simple feeling of having them there, before giving in to the need to move.

Carefully he squirmed out of England’s loose hold and smiled as the others in the bed frowned at his lack and shifted to fill the empty spot he had left behind. It was nice to be missed once in awhile. Still smiling, he went to fix breakfast.

England woke slowly and tried to stretch, only to find himself pinned.

There was a brief moment of panic before his waking mind recognized the chest pressed to his back (fuzzy, must be France) and the arm slung over both of them (strong and warm…America). A hesitant sniff at the air confirmed Canada was already up and apparently making breakfast.

For a moment he was confused…didn’t he go to sleep fully dressed last night?...when he remembered – he’d been sharing a bed with both France and Canada. He was lucky to still have his trousers, really.

He snuggled against his sleeping lovers. Usually he would fight against any physical contact – it was forced on him too often and more often than not ended badly for him – but he could trust France and America. Just knowing he could trust them to touch him felt almost as good as the touch itself.

After a few minutes, he reluctantly worked free of their hold. Canada would need some help downstairs. He watched France and America sleeping for a moment and made sure they wouldn’t catch him before giving them each a quick kiss and heading down to where Canada was cooking.

A few hours later, France watched with amusement as America and England bickered, sipping at the apple cider that had been pressed into his hand. Only America would take a perfectly good drink and create a non-alcoholic version, he thought ruefully. Perhaps that was part of why he and England were arguing.

He saw England take a quick look around and steal a quick kiss when he was sure no one was looking. How like his little Sex Ambassador, to be so repressed and shy about showing affection. He drew Canada closer with his free arm and felt the northern nation lean into him. A quick smile flicked over his face as Canada’s hand ran over his backside.

They had done the food booths first, where America had gotten twice the food as the rest of them, then had proceeded to scarf down most of it, sharing the occasional bite with his lovers, usually by feeding it to them, which sparked off this latest argument about feeding each other and displays of affection in public.

America laughed and stuck another piece of funnel cake into England’s mouth as he ranted. England blushed and looked away as he chewed and America grinned, pecking him on the mouth before dragging him off toward the corn maze.

Laughing, America picked England up and spun them over a mud puddle in their path, ignoring England’s embarrassed protests. France noticed, though, as he followed after them hand-in-hand with Canada that England wasn’t fighting to get out of America’s arms the way he did with anyone else that tried to manhandle him.

Canada gave him a kiss on the cheek as they came up to the corn maze and pulled England from America, holding him up almost as easily. Canada wasn’t quite as strong as his brother, but England wasn’t that heavy either.

“C’mon, Al, we decided to switch when we got to the corn maze, remember?”

“Oh, right! You’re mine now, blondie!” America grabbed France’s hand, laughing as France rolled his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to get down by now, Lapin?” France asked, proving just where America got his nickname habits. England blushed harder and shrugged.

“They won’t drop me,” he said off-handedly. America made a noise close to a squeal and dragged the other three into a giant bear hug.

“Gah! America, we’re in public! And you’re crushing me!” England protested, the last sounding breathless. America let go with one last peck, grabbing France’s hand again.

“C’mon, guys, first pair through the maze tops tonight!” he called back as he darted into the maze, France in tow.

England facepalmed as Canada put him down. “Is he ever going to grow up?”

“Probably not. Come on, we should try to catch up.” Canada linked hands with England, who squeezed back. Canada always liked holding hands and having that little reminder that someone could see him. “Ready to go through?”

England smiled and took a step closer to Canada. “Together, then?”

“Together,” Canada agreed, daring to slip an arm around England’s waist and feeling warmth tighten in his chest when England didn’t pull away. “Always together.”

Tags: character: america, character: canada, character: england, character: france, fanfiction

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