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The summed was hot, hotter than usual. England was laying on a couch in his own living room, watching the ceiling fan turn, though the moving air didn’t seem any cooler. It was the sort of day where everything seemed calm and lazy except for the steady whir of the fan. It was the kind of lazy weekend where nothing and no one was capable of shaking off the apathy.
England fanned himself with a magazine and tried to summon the will to get up and do anything.
The doorbell let out a shrill ring. England looked over at it like it should be ashamed of ringing. But, none the less, he stood up and walked over to the door.
He didn’t bother to button up his shirt, even if he knew it would be untoward if someone could see him in his undershirt. It was hot enough that whoever was at the door would understand.
England pulled open the door, and was surprised to see Portugal on the other side of it. He had a cap placed jauntily on his brown hair and was wearing a short sleeved shirt.
England was momentarily distracted by how clearly he could see the muscles in Portugal’s arms. He had never ceased to be amazed at the way Portugal’s body showed the signs of hard work hauling rope and sails.
England glanced back up at his partner’s face and waited for an explanation. He did not have to wait long before Portugal said, “Let’s go sail. The weather is lovely. The winds are mild.”
His eyes were earnest, but England was having a hard time believing that this was lovely weather. It might be a difference between their climates, and nothing more. He replied, “Surely it is too hot for that.”
Portugal shook his head and replied, with the immediacy of a prepared response, “The sea breeze will be cooler. It is always more pleasant on the sea.”
England conceded that Portugal was right and sailing might allow him some respite from the heat. If it was still hot, there was always the possibility of going for a swim as well. And, he thought, it would be more pleasant to spend a summer day with the man he loved instead of spending it lying on a couch.
He replied, “You’re right. I will be right back. I need to let Bertie know where I will be.”
England quickly strode back to the kitchen to quickly write down a note for his king. He wrote that he would be out of contact for a day, but he was sailing and he would be back soon. He hoped that there would be no reason for him to come to the king’s bedside today. He knew that the king’s health has been failing, but surely one day wouldn’t be a problem. The king had said that he thought he was beginning to recover.
After he finished the note, he turned his attention to his own shirt, and he quickly did up the buttons. Only then did he feel ready to leave and spend a day on leisure. Portugal had stepped just inside of the door and was waiting patiently. He had a little smile on his lips and was casually twirling a coin between his fingers.
When England turned back to him, Portugal said, “Are you ready to go, dear?”
England replied, extending his hand to Portugal, “Yes, I am.”
The other man gladly took his hand. As they intertwined their fingers, they walked out of the front door.
Portugal had been correct, the winds were perfect for a day on the sea. The vessel itself was a small one, only the sailboat that Portugal used for personal cruises and fishing. But, it was the kind of boat that could be manned by one or two people. Anything bigger would be unmanageable without a bigger crew, and Portugal had more than enough experience to know that.
Both of them had once had full fleets of sailing ships, but those had gone by the wayside with the continued use of steam, coal, and oil had changed that. Though sea travel was faster how than it had ever been, there was a certain art and mastery that came to sailing.
England followed his partner onto the deck. He looked up at the sail and could see that the rigging had already been done neatly. He would expect nothing less from the man who was the undisputed expert at seafaring Portugal always kept his boats in the most beautiful condition.
Portugal was at the bow carefully coiling the rope he had disconnected from the pier. Only once he had carefully tied up the rope, did Portugal direct his attention back to England and say, “Would you like to come to the cabin with me? I’m going to use the engine to get us out of the harbor, and then it will be all sail from there.”
England wouldn’t have refused the offer, even without the explanation. He loved being able to watch Portugal work, and he knew there would be plenty of opportunity for him to contribute once they got out into open water. He nodded and said, “Of course.”
As Portugal came back down the length of the boat, England stepped towards him and wrapped one army softly around his partner’s waist. He planted a soft kiss on Portugal’s lips. It was not deep, just enough to communicate his affection.
Portugal laughed shortly and said, “There will be time for that.”
England said, trying to be playful, “You’re so handsome. I couldn’t resist.” Portugal kissed England shortly on the forehead and replied, “So are you.”
Then, he stepped away and towards the captain’s cabin. England followed him, though he was almost disappointed that the contact between them had been broken. Once inside, Portugal took the wheel and brought the engine to life.
The trip out of the harbor was easy and quiet, so England took it as a chance to watch his partner work. Portugal had such a deft hand when it came to navigation. He had done more work than any man alive to understand the ocean and how to know the way.
Once they got into open water, Portugal cut the engine. He said, flashing England his ever-confident smile, “Let’s go let loose some canvas.” England felt the excitement in his chest. It had been so long since he had been able to just sail without any political pressure beyond it all. The last time he had piloted a ship, it was for war.
He took running steps back up to the deck and could hear Portugal behind him. The sun was high in the sky, and England could guess that it was almost noon. But he couldn’t dawdle and contemplate the time. He was needed to untie the sail.
He started from one end, while Portugal started at the other. They met at the middle, and their hands brushed softly against each other. There was no time to contemplate it though.
Portugal moved easily, with well practiced habit, and pulled the rope to set the sail fully. Without a moment’s hesitation, he tied it down. England almost felt like he was a spectator to a graceful dance. Portugal moved with ease and was able to tell the direction of the wind without any instrument at all. He turned the crank to bring the sail into the correct position to catch the wind.
The sail went taught and the boat moved forward smoothly through the water. England found himself amazed by how quickly Portugal had assessed the wind and been able to set the sail.
Once he was done, Portugal looked back up. With his concentration broken, he realized that he had left very little for England to do. He said, “I should have let you help.”
England shook his head with a small smile. He said, “I enjoy watching you work.”
Portugal walked over with a sly smile and a slight sway in his step. It was so inherently sexual, that England started to blush. Once he was close enough that he could easily reach out and touch England if he so wished, he said, “I didn’t invite you just so you can stare at me.”
His tone was light, teasing. England took the closeness as an invitation, and took both of Portugal’s calloused hands in his own. Then he said, “I should have at least brought lunch, as a reward for your hard work.”
As soon as he said it, England realized that it would have been the best contribution. He hadn’t even thought of it before, and he wished he had. Portugal said, tightening his hands on England’s, “I made us a lunch already. I’ll get it.”
He let go of England’s hands as he ducked below decks to where there was a small cabin. As they were speaking, the boat had been moving through the water. Eventually, it would be a good idea to spill the wind from the sail, but not quite yet. England knew that they only had a day for this cruise, so it would be better to stay relatively close to the coast. They would have to keep the time it took to get back in mind.
Portugal emerged from the cabin with what appeared to be a picnic basket and a blanket. He walked to the flattest part of the deck and spread the blanket. Then, resolutely, he sat down on the blanket.
England couldn’t help but find it adorable that his partner had planned this well enough to have a picnic already planned and prepared. He felt so glad that he had this in his life.
He sat on the blanket across from Portugal, and waited to see what food his partner had packed. First a pair of glasses and a bottle of wine emerged from the basket. Portugal poured a glass of wine for both of them, and passed one over to England. It felt incredibly familiar to have a drink on a boat together. They had done it so many times before, in different captain’s quarters.
England took a drink and took the time to look out over the waves. It was peaceful here, the kind of peace that had seemed almost impossible a decade ago. It was worlds away from fleeing across the channel from Dunkirk.
Portugal then pulled out a radio and began to fiddle with the dial until he found a strong signal. Upbeat music with a swinging beat came from the speakers. Portugal looked up and England thought he might melt from the heat and the tenderness in his partner’s green eyes.
He smiled and took another slow drink of wine. There was so much he could say, so much that could express the deep contentment he felt in the moment. But, none of the words that he could bring to mind seemed like quite enough.
As he contemplated and searched for the right expression, Portugal glanced around and said, “I am going to spill the wind from the sail.”
He got up, and moved the sail so that the wind was perpendicular to it, bringing the boat to a stop. England leaned back on his elbows and took another drink. Portugal was right, it was far more pleasant to be here with the temperate salt breeze coming off of the Mediterranean was infinitely more pleasant than being home ever could have been.
The song on the radio changed to another that was just as upbeat. This new genre of music certainly expressed a new optimism that had been reborn since the end of the second world war.
Portugal started to hum in time with the music. He said, extending his hand to England, “Dance with me.”
England took it, hastily putting down his glass of wine, and said, “Gladly.”
Portugal led him back, far enough away that the glasses of wine were in no danger. He started to take steps in time with the music, and England mirrored him. It wasn’t careful, since there was no one watching. There was a certain grace to just moving in time with each other and the music.
As he caught sight of Portugal’s bright smile again, England felt a surge of euphoria. After all the horrors he had fought through, the Blitz, the threat of invasion, and sacrifice of Normandy beaches, there was peace and hope here between them. He had survived and triumphed in the bloodiest conflict in European history. Now he was letting himself being carefree and in love again. This was exactly what he had hoped for, what he had fought for.
In this surge of joy, England let out a laugh at the pure beauty of it. Portugal said, “Is something wrong?”
England shook his head and said, “I’m just so happy. I thought we might not get another day like this.”
It was more clumsily worded than he hoped, but the sentiment was completely true. Portugal said, “I am happy too.”
Still overcome by his own happiness, England leaned in and connected their lips again. This one was deep and long. England put both of his hands on Portugal’s face, cradling this important part of his happiness, treating his partner as something precious.
When they finally broke apart, Portugal said, “You really are happy.” It sounded like he was about to laugh.
England knew that he had made everything he was feeling perfectly clear. He already knew this was going to be a very good day, and he intended to enjoy every moment of it.