A/N: Well, this idea popped into my mind last night and I figured it should be written. This is rated only for lime-y substance, (which I think might be a little iffy for younger teens: so explains the rating.) so if you're not a fan, don't read. Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy!
Special thanks to Erbby17 for dragging me into this series in the first place. This is for you. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia.
Medicine.
Words were being thrown around the room like a ball on a playing field, coated with thick accents and curses. A few nations stood while others sat, keeping their peace by refusing to get involved. However, no matter how many voices filled the room, one nation couldn't help but notice the lack of a certain loud (and rather crude) voice that usually cut through the other's like a knife…
"America." England demanded getting up from his seat and walking the short distance to the head of the table. "America, lift your head up. Where do you think you are?!" The blonde scolded while the younger of the two turned his head slightly to look up at the other. He was surrounded by a few empty plates and wrappers and looked a bit on the pale side.
"Sorry, Arthur. I'm not feeling too hot right now." The American's lids covered his bright blue eyes as he hugged his arms to his middle with a slight wince.
"If you aren't feeling well then properly excuse yourself from the meeting rather than sitting here like a bump on a log." Looking at the younger nation's body language, he quickly caught on to what the problem was. "You ate too much, didn't you?" The other groaned while England nodded. He was quite familiar with the routine at this point. "Let's go, git." He said taking his arm and leading him up right to walk.
When he was smaller, America had a tendency to stuff his face with twice his body weight and would become incredibly sick afterwards. Unfortunately, not much had changed. However, back then, it was nearly every week this occurred and Arthur always treated him the same way: Laid him down on his bed with a cool rag and went for the medicine.
"I will do anything if you don't shove that terrible crap down my throat."
"Alfred, it works. You know that as well as I do." The Englishman walked from his bed to the bathroom that was connected to the room and began digging to the back of his medicine cabinet. America sighed and looked around the room, taking in everything he remembered so well. It had been many years since he'd been in there, but everything was as vivid in real life as it was in his memories. The room was rather classy in its color palette and looked like someone with an extreme case of an obsessive compulsive disorder was the maid to it. The closet door was open slightly, revealing all the older nation's perfectly pressed and hung shirts, pants, and uniforms. Starting to feel a bit better, Alfred stood up placing the wet rag the spotless nightstand and crossed to the closet. He pushed the sliding door all the way to the side and chuckled a bit to himself as his eyes scanned over the color coded ties and shirts. His gaze drifted to the very back of the closet, a bright red coat catching his attention as he inhaled sharply, a bit of nausea over coming him. He shook it off and closed the door, turning around slightly to see England with an eye brow raised. "Looking for something?"
"No, just laughing at your neatness, for ol' time's sake." He smiled charmingly. Arthur looked away from him to the bed.
"Y-yes, well… Lie back down." The younger nation followed the instruction of the elder and plopped back down, face first, onto the bed. England gave him and eye roll before realizing he needed a spoon for the syrup. He sighed to himself slightly before setting the bottle next to the rag and cleared his throat. "I forgot the tea spoon. I'll be right back." America waved a hand as a response and stayed face down on the pillow. Once the sound of Arthur's footsteps faded into the hallway and down the stairs, he shifted slightly, hugging the pillow to his face. It smelled exactly like he remembered, the same scent that hung heavily throughout the house and on Arthur. A smile etched it's way to his face remembering how as a child, he'd always cling to the elder nation in order to just smell whatever he always wore.
He also remembered the crush that he had developed on England.
Every time he took his hand, or smiled at him, or helped lull him to sleep, Alfred found himself filled with more love than anything he'd ever felt. And laying on Arthur's bed smelling the same scent, put him back in the same position he'd been in as a small boy; being filled with that sense of over powering love, so much, that it almost hurt to think about.
"Alright, Alfred. Let's do this quickly with as little fuss as possible." England sighed walking into the room and grabbing the bottle of coke syrup and unscrewing the cap. "I think one or two tea spoons of this should be enough." Before he was able to seal the cap back on top of the bottle, a strong hand grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. The loud clap of the spoon hitting the floor filled the room as the bottle was emptied all over the floor and flowed down the cracks of the wood.
Seated on the American's stomach, Arthur blushed profusely and attempted to pull away.
"Wh-what are you doing, git!? Let me go!" He began to pull against his grip harder, but to no avail. Before he could struggle anymore, America had flipped over so that he was now on top of England, pinning him to the bed with most of his weight in his legs. "Alfred…" His voice was almost a whisper as the taller of the two smiled a bit.
"Ever since I was little, you've always known how to make me feel better..." Lowering his head slightly, the younger touched his lips to the timid man beneath him. England's eyes went wide as he tried to push away from him but had no more success than he had before. After a few hesitant moments, he began to relax into the kiss that Alfred had forced him into and encircled his arms around his neck, drawing him closer and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. The elder nation pressed his hands through the American's long, blonde bangs and into the rest of his hair, keeping him at a close proximity.
Alfred forced his tongue into Arthur's mouth, hungrily searching every inch as he ran his hands up and down the Englishman's spine, earning a slight moan which made him smile into the kiss. That drove him to push his knee in between Arthur's legs, his free hand teasing his inner thigh with light fingertips that gradually traveled up to undo the belt buckle that was preventing anything else from occurring.
"W-wait." Arthur interjected while placing a hand over the other's, panting heavily not only from the lack of air, but from the contact as well. "Where… Where on earth is all this coming from?" Almost in defeat of his efforts being stopped, the younger's head dropped down to the other's shoulder as he breathed out.
"I love you." He said into the now incredibly disheveled shirt collar that was England's. The smaller man froze, his breaths becoming shallow as he felt a sense of warmth overcoming him. America looked up, curious blue meeting clear green as he let his head fall to one side.
"Wanker," Closing his eyes momentarily, the Brit reached up. Alfred looked at him with a bit of surprise as he took his glasses off his face and placed him on the night stand where the rag had fallen from. It was now part of the mess of coke syrup on the floor. "You should have told me sooner." Pulling his face back down to his own, this kiss was sweeter and more loving. Alfred broke the kiss but hovered very closely to where he was.
"Do you love me too, then?" He asked. Arthur merely smiled and closed the distance between them again. Alfred began to slip his shirt off and had to break away momentarily. "You know, I think this is better medicine than that disgusting coke syrup."
He turned the lights out.