He could see those bright, naive eyes, staring up at him in awe and wonderment, and they were as blue and as free as the sky. "Ne, England," the sweet voice asked, tone as jubilant as usual but with a hint of embarrassment to it. "You'll always be my big brother, right?"
The older country blinked his wide green eyes in surprise before he felt a sudden warmth overwhelm him and he couldn't stop himself from smiling. That boy had too much of an effect on him. Smiling warmly, cheeks flushed from joy and pleasure, he held out his pale, scarred hand and replied gently, "Always and forever, America."
His eyes flew open and he sucked in a sharp breath as consciousness returned to him. He blinked a few times and glanced around, finding himself on the sofa in his home. He frowned, brows drawing tightly together as he wondered, How the bloody hell did I manage to...? Oh, right... I got drunk... The memory hitting him like a ton of bricks, he felt a sudden agonising pain tear through his head and he groaned as he held his hands to his head. Fuck. I'm never getting drunk again, he told himself, although he was already aware he'd break that vow (again) soon enough.
But where did that dream come from? His traitorous head enquired as if to taunt or torture him, and the masochist in him promoted his morbid curiosity. True, it isn't the first time I've dreamt of America... He felt his cheeks warm at the realisation. He may have known that he was mildly obsessed with the younger country, but he'd never actually recognised or acknowledged it. Maybe he should have done so when he hadn't had a hangover. That would have been far more productive than increasing his pounding headache. Despite that... He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, closing his eyes once again as if to ward off the thoughts. I feel it's just getting worse. I have to do something about this... but... what can I do...?
The shrill sound of a phone ringing ran through the house and went straight to England's headache. He'd later deny that he'd screamed much like a woman if asked. Dismissing the furious pounding sensation in his head that was steadily becoming more like a merciless death sentence, he painfully pulled himself up and approached his evil phone. I bet it's a witch. Blasted thing.
However, when he picked up the device, his tone went from sinister to polite and formal. "Good day. This is the residence of Arthur Kirkland. How may I help you?"
"Hello, England-san," the voice on the other end replied, and the Brit's agitated scowl evaporated instantly to be replaced by a small smile.
"Japan," he said, a tone of relief in his voice. "How are you?"
"I am very well, thank you, England-san. And yourself?" the soft-spoken man enquired politely. If he weren't speaking to Japan, he'd have thought he heard something rather creepy in the man's tone... No, no. He was talking to Japan, not that perverted France! The hangover must have affected him more than he thought.
"I'm also well, thank you." It was a lie. His headache, which was steadily morphing into a migraine, was killing him. He wanted to knock himself out. But if he said that, Japan would worry. Keeping his strained content tone, he continued, "I must ask, Japan... What have you called for? N-not to be rude!" he added stiffly, worried he'd offend one of his few friends. "I-I was just... I mean, I..."
Japan chuckled softly on the other end, and he could swear he heard the Asian man murmur something that sounded like, "Tsundere," but he couldn't be sure, and he hadn't heard the term when he had studied Japanese... Odd. Maybe he'd misheard his friend. "Do not worry, England-san. I am not offended," he assurred him gently, and England relaxed slightly. "I just called to invite you to come to Japan."
England blinked in confusion. "T-to go over to yours?" he asked. "But... but our bosses aren't currently discussing anything, so..."
"It is simply a suggestion," the man replied quietly. "You have seemed rather... stressed... recently. I thought this might be good for you. Also, there is that little ghost girl you speak to... I have a feeling she misses you. My wind chimes keep sounding often. I feel bad that I cannot see her..."
The blond felt himself beaming despite his horrible headache. "Oh, she is a dear," he said with a wistful sigh. "She's so sweet, Japan. I wish you could see her." He sounded mildly remorseful. "But... she does like you. She told me."
Japan chuckled again. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied truthfully, although he was mostly amused by England's behaviour. He really had a soft spot for children, didn't he? "In any case, I hope you accept my invitation. I'll give you some time to consider it..."
England instantly felt guilt crawl its way into his mind and heart, its black nimble hands winding itself around his neck - "I'll come," he suddenly said, and then felt mildly embarrassed when he received silence as a response. "S-sorry, Japan. I-I mean, I would be honoured to accept your offer, s-so..."
"I'm glad to hear it," the Japanese man replied happily. "Your flight is booked. I hope to see you tonight. Sayonara, England-san."
The line went dead, the constant 'beeeep' sound grating on England's headache, and he couldn't help but think, How the bloody hell is my flight already booked if I only just accepted? before he put the phone down softly and sunk to the floor, hoping to sleep off his hangover.
O-o-O-o-O
He was jolted awake once again once the plane had landed with a rather violent bump. He blinked sleepily, and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. His head was still hurting, despite his nap at home and long slumber on the plane. Well, now I know that pain killers are practically placebos. Bah, he thought moodily, rubbing his aching head as the plane rolled to a stop. He decided to wait until the two people next to him had gotten up and left before he himself stood up, or it would just be exceedingly awkward to maneuver himself without pushing, and that wouldn't be very gentlemanly.
The blond rose his head when he heard small sobs, and made eye-contact with a little brown-eyed baby whose eyes were filled with tears. He smiled at the infant like he used to smile at America, and the baby blinked before gurgling happily. She looked like she was giggling. England laughed softly under his breath, which inclined the baby's laughter to increase. He raised a hand to wave at her, and she blinked at him before beaming again. Finally, her parents had retrieved their luggage and had moved down the plane. He smiled at the girl once more before he grabbed his own suitcase (with a little struggle as he wasn't the tallest man in the world) and made his way out.
He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight that immediately flooded out. He suddenly felt a little too warm in his dark green suit, not to mention overdressed. Everyone around him was dressed casually, many in Japanese-style clothes even if they weren't of Japanese nationality. He tried to ignore his worries and thought to himself, You're not the one with the low self-esteem, England. Come on, old boy. Stiff upper lip and all that. You invented it, after all...
England, after hazardously making his way through airport security (he wasn't allowed to take his bloody china tea set, and had to be degraded with a bloody body search when they'd found his tea cups! How humiliating. America would get a kick out of it, that's for sure), he was certain his headache had worsened significantly. He was scowling gloomily as he departed from the airport and called a taxi, grumbling the location as he clambered in the backseat. The Japanese man glanced at him, mumbling quietly, "Igirisu no?"
"Hai," he answered tiredly. "Watashi wa igirisu jin." He must have made an error of some sort (or just looked strange), because the driver kept glancing at him. Thankfully, he made no more attempt to talk until they had reached England's intended destination. He grabbed his briefcase and rifled through his pockets for the correct amount of Yen, but paused when the man spoke again.
"Anata wa ge desu ka?" He looked mildly embarrassed, but also determined.
England took a moment to translate it in his head before his face flared bright red and he stuttered, "I-i-iie. G-gomenasai." He shifted uncomfortably.
The driver observed him for a moment before giving him something between a smile and a smirk. "Wakarimashita."
England hurriedly slapped the designated amount of money in his hands before stumbling hastily out of the taxi, and staggering away in his haste. He was very relieved when he noticed Japan waiting for him, and made a beeline straight towards the Asian man, but yelped as he accidentally ran into someone. Well, actually, someone had stepped in front of him, but... "G-gomenasai," he apologised quickly, moving to sidestep the man, but his arm was caught, and he looked up, eyes bulging at the crazy hairstyle and make-up the man wore. Oh my God. What is he? A witch? The equivalent of a punk in England? Although, my style is far cooler whereas his is just... scary.
"Igirisu no?" the man asked, his purple eyes (contact lenses, England guessed) sweeping over England in appraisal before a small smirk formed on his lipstick-coated lips.
"H-hai," he replied weakly, just wanting to go home to get over his bloody culture shock. This was not good for his headache.
"What is your name?" the baritone voiced enquired with heavily accented English, and England glanced up again quickly.
"Erm... Watashi wa Arthur Kirkland desu," he replied nervously, offering a hasty bow in hopes he didn't offend the other man. Japan had once told him you had to address diverse people differently, and bow certain amounts or you could offend them.
The man chuckled deeply, his gloved fingers grasping England's chin and forcing him to look up. "You have pretty eyes," he praised, and the Brit felt his face heat up again. "And blush." Damn my fair skin!
"A-arigatou?" he said questioningly, eyes impossibly wide, and he jumped in surprise when the man was suddenly flung ten feet to the side. He blinked, and suddenly Japan was in front of him.
"Please do not bother my friend," he said quietly, glaring dangerously at his citizen before turning to England with a polite smile as if he hadn't just almost killed one of his own people. "Shall we, Arthur-san?"
"U-uh..." He glanced at the creepy guy, who was glowering furiously at Japan, before bristling nervously and nodding enthusiastically. "Y-yes."
Japan smiled a closed-eyed smile (probably hiding his amusement at England's apparent fear of Japanese... punks... or whatever they were), and began walking. England stumbled after him quickly, not wanting to be left alone with all of the people.
"I apologise," Japan said. "I should have met you at the airport. I did not think anyone would approach you. I suppose I should have guessed it may happen. Some of my people can be forward sometimes, despite misgivings, and you are an attractive tsundere - ano... man." He sent England an apologetic smile, which the Brit returned with a concerned one.
"Not at all," he replied, trying to force the heat in his cheeks to disippate. It wasn't working. Why did Japan have to call him attractive? "But..." His eyes became wide again. "What... What was he?" he whispered as if discussing a ghost.
Japan covered his mouth with his hand to disguise a chuckle. "That style is called visual kei, Arthur-san," he explained softly. "You will see a lot of it here, along with many other styles that will be unfamiliar to you. However, you may notice some cosplayer's costumes as you also watch some of my anime." He beamed proudly.
"Y-yeah..." England agreed weakly, a strained smile on his lips. He almost hadn't heard what Japan had said due to his migraine. Obviously, the dark-haired man noticed, as his smile instantly turned into a frown.
"Arthur-san, are you unwell?" he enquired worriedly. "Perhaps you are ill? Do you require medicine?"
"N-no!" he said quickly, waving his hands. "I'm all right, honest!"
Japan appraised him for a moment before nodding curtly. "Yes," he replied, and they continued their brisk walk to Japan's house. England was just glad it wasn't in the centre of Tokyo, amidst all of the bright lights and noise, but actually more close to Kyoto. He did have a home in Tokyo, too, obviously, but they were staying at his house in Kyoto this time, where he had wonderful, peaceful scenery and relaxing hot springs. Despite himself, he found himself looking forward to it. He must have fallen asleep on the train, because Japan had eventually bashfully woken him up, and he blushed when he realised he had slept on his friend's shoulder. He stuttered apologies, to which Japan replied with a polite smile.
America would tease me. Scratch that, he'd just shove me off of him. No, not even that - I'd never be able to get sleep. He'd just talk and talk and increase my headache. Bloody git... he thought wistfully, sighing softly and shaking his head. I do not miss the wanker. No, not at all. Not at all...
"Arthur-san. Arthur-san?" He blinked and looked up, seeing Japan staring worriedly at him.
"Ah..." He flushed again. "Sorry, Kiku. I'm a bit out of it today, I suppose," he said with a sheepish laugh.
Japan smiled in understanding. "Daijobu," he reassurred him. "You will be able to relax now - we are here." Sure enough, England looked up and set his eyes upon the beautiful sight of a mass expanse of blue, blue sky (that reminded him of America's eyes. Darn him, he was everywhere!); jade green grass with astonishingly beautiful sakura trees planted there, the soft pink blossums swaying in the breeze and some falling gently to the ground or on the pools of water and floating along; and the very traditional Japanese-styled house.
He followed Japan across the traffic light-green grass, over a little wooden bridge perched sweetly over a quaint stream, and shuffled out of his shoes before entering the house.
"Your room is just down the hall, the last door on the left - your usual one. I will take your bag, you should just head to the onsen and relax." Japan reached for England's luggage and smiled at him. "Please enjoy your stay, Arthur-san." He bowed and scuttled off to England's room.
Shrugging dismissively, the Brit headed towards the springs. He'd been here before a few times, so he knew the way around. He easily located the changing rooms and removed his clothes slowly, shivering despite the steam from the springs entering the room. He rubbed his pale arms to generate some warmth in them before grabbing a towell to wrap around his waist and head, and then opened the shoji door to enter the spring -
Only to meet shocked blue eyes.
"America?"
"England?"
They'd both shouted each other's names at the same time, and then flushed brightly and looked away awkwardly.
"Well... uh..." America began once the silence began to grate on his nerves. "Aren't you gettin' in or somethin'? You'll get sick or somethin' otherwise," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. England couldn't help his treacherous eyes from glancing at the younger man's pecks, abs - "England?"
"O-oh! Y-yes, of course," he replied quickly, face heating up again. He didn't remove his towell as he entered the hot water, and shuddered as the heat spread through him. He slowly lowered himself into the water, already feeling the temperature increase drastically. He just wasn't accustomed to heat. He'd have to get out pretty soon.
"Sooo..." the taller man began nervously, eyes averted as he tried to look at anything apart from the man across from him. It was quite... cute. England resisted the urge to slap himself. "Why'd you come?"
England scowled in annoyance. "I beg your pardon?" he snapped defensively. "I'll have you know, Japan invited me. If that's not to your liking, that's too bloody bad, because-"
"Chill, England! Chill!" America said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender with a small glare. "I was just askin'." He looked almost hurt, and the green-eyed nation immediately felt guilt's black hands wrap themselves around him. "Why d'you act like this anyways?" he asked quietly, meeting England's eyes before glancing down like a kicked puppy. It's not fair, England thought weakly, his migraine suddenly beginning to pound mercilessly once again, now feeling like a machine gun with unlimited ammunition, or a headshot with a sniper. "You always... You always get mad at me," he grumbled sadly, and the older country stared at the American with blurred clarity. "Everything I say and do is wrong."
"You're over dramaticising things again, America," England grumbled, hoping he was still coherent despite his foggy mind.
America frowned. "I'm not. I mean, I... I... always try to impress-" He cut himself off quickly, shaking his head, and then glared at England. "You always get angry," he repeated.
"I get angry because you say such idiotic things!" England snapped, but it was becoming more and more difficult to speak with the sudden layer of mist in his mind.
"No matter what I do, you're always unhappy. But you always used to smile at me and... stuff..." He sighed in aggravation and ran a hand through his hair. "Y'know what? Forget it," he said, obviously agitated, and he stood up. "I'm gettin' out-"
"Wait...!"
"Wha-?" America began, eyes narrowed in annoyance before widening in shock as he was suddenly tackled down and inadvertently shoved underwater. Not expecting the sudden occurrance, he sucked in a surprised breath as began hacking as water invaded his sinuses and lungs, and coughing only made it worse. He felt his head become light and his vision was blurring. Mind foggy and eyesight dwindling, his attempt to swim to the surface was futile, and he soon felt his world turn black as his eyes closed, feeling only a fleeting comforting touch as everything vanished.
O-o-O-o-O
Soft. Something felt soft, and very warm. It felt comforting, just like that touch from before-
Blue water suddenly looked black as he sucked it in and it filled his lungs, and he couldn't breathe. Panicking, he tried to swim, but the monstrous black water held him back-
A gentle, comforting touch. Something soft and warm and welcoming-
Too hot and yet he was becoming cold. He couldn't breathe. He was losing his sight. He couldn't-
A frantic, worried, panicked voice - "Wake up, Alfred! Goddammit, wake up now!" - and that very soft and welcoming feeling-
What touched me?
There was nothing for a moment, aside from that comforting touch, until suddenly he felt hi throat being torn apart and he was coughing and hacking, drawing air into his lungs frantically, fingertips digging into whatever he was clutching as he tried to breathe again. Suddenly, his air supply was blocked and he panicked again, but soon began to feel sedated because it was that gentle and warm feeling, the one that sent electric vibrations sizzling through his veins, but along with that- that almost sensual feeling came a more caring, comforting one, that made him feel safe and loved, and he easily gave into it, submitted to it, because he just felt so accepted and wanted. He craved that.
"Alfred..." a voice whispered softly, the heated breath ghosting across his lips, his neck - ah! - his chest, and lower, lower... "Alfred... Alfred... I love you, Alfred... I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me crazy..."
You're driving me crazy, the American thought, but found himself unable to speak. His throat still hurt and all he could manage were pleading groans and wanton moans, as he dug his nails into the warm, soft flesh he was clinging onto so tightly, and he could hear another's amazing sounds as he did so, and couldn't help but think, Masochist.
"Ah!" he heard someone cry out, and was surprised to find it was him. Something felt strange, foreign, but he accepted it readily, almost greedily, shifting quickly and groaning hopefully, but not resorting to pleading. He licked his dry lips and soon felt soft ones back on his, and readily accepted those as well as the odd feeling. Something hurt for a moment, and he couldn't help but hiss into the kiss, biting at the soft lips that were pressed so hungrily against his, and received a whimper in response, but then the pain fizzled away into a dull ache and the need for more become obvious, and he moved to meet the other's movements, and it felt so, so amazingly good - He saw white.
He pulled back from the warm, welcoming lips for a split second to whisper, "I love you too," and then plunged forward into it again. It was just too addiciting.
O-o-O-o-O
"Oh my goodness," Hungary whispered, eyes sparkling in awe and wonderment as if she had discovered the secrets of the universe. Slowly, reluctantly, her gaze rose to meet amused dark eyes and she said, "Japan, you're a genius."
He smiled politely. "Thank you," he replied softly.
"I mean... Oh my God," she spluttered, and thanked the Asian man when he handed her another tissue. "You posted it oin YouTube as a teaser, an AMV, and then you distribute doujinshis... Japan, you're a genius," she repeated, nodding seriously as her eyes gleamed. "Mine copy's for free, right?" Her eyes sparked dangerously and Japan found himself growing slightly nervous. Normally, he would charge anyone and everyone, but he had heard about Hungary's tendancy to castrate people with frying pans, so...
"Of course, Hungary-san," he replied quickly, taking a step back and trying not to show his fear. Thankfully, the girl was once again preoccupied by the moans and whimpers and heavenly sounds coming from her computer and he took the chance to escape.
"I must invite those two around more often," he thought to himself out loud, a small smirk decorating his lips as he glanced at the many doujinshis in a random shop's window. "Hmm... What is this one?" he mumbled, noticing a new doujinshi stacked on the shelf next to an AmericaxEngland R!18 one. Picking up the glossy cover, he inspected it... and promptly fainted.
There, lying innocently on the floor next to the unconscious Japanese man, was a GreecexJapan R!18 doujinshi.
He could never look at his philosophical friend the same way again. At least, not without picturing him without cat ears in a dress.
O-o-O-o-O
The next day, England's migraine was even worse, and America couldn't get out of bed. He was never letting England top him again. Well... not this week, anyway...
O-o-O-o-O
Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
This is for Suzume Chiyu or, in other words, my own America. We're having a lit trade and she requested seme!England with a not-exactly-explicit sex scene... I hope this is what you wanted! I really enjoyed writing for Japan in this one... His mind amuses me greatly... In any case, I hope they were in character and that you liked it! I tried my best, so--! A Please enjoy it!
It's sad that when I wrote the last scene with Japan scouring the shelves, I could actually picture a few USxUK doujinshis right there... -Blushes slightly and fidgets- Err... In any case, thank you for reading this! I've never written seme!England before (although I've been tempted to), so I hope I did it justice! :)