Disclaimer: Revolving focus, possible OOC-ness, human/country name switchin' and incredibly long introduction to the plot. Hetalia belongs to my hero, Hidekaz Himaruya. I will never own this glorious anime, I am unworthy!
The strong scent of chlorinated water hit each member of the traveling party's noses as they were ushered into a domed waterpark by a reluctant Ludwig.
...
To make up for his blatant insulting of Australia's "food" at last month's world conference (and to get his precious bruder off his case), Prussia had suggested that they treat the Aussie to a worry-free day at one of Europe's best indoor waterparks to make up for it and Germany had, suprisingly, agreed to the idea. Prussia, of course, gloated about it to his best buddies, France and Spain. The two asked if they could come and there was no way the awesome that was Prussia would allow his friends to be bored shitless without him to grace them with his awesomeness. The self-proclaimed Prussian agreed to let them come as long as they kept it on the down-low for now since his brother didn't know about the extra guests he was bringing yet. Both men swore to uphold their promise with sparkles in their eyes, one pair hinting at amusement and the other at a kind of giddy excitement.
The Bad Touch Trio then did a three-way pinkie swear to seal the deal before Prussia was forced to kick them out of his basement window when he heard the booming voice of his brother's approaching from upstairs.
He was still grounded for buying out a television show's complete assortment of women's swimsuits. While sober this time. Long story short, Germany had a conniption and Prussia was barred from any computer, telephone or worldwide broadcasting contraption in sight. He even shut down Prussia's blog for the time being. The crafty bastard.
Happy to leave the dark holding cell of a basement, his friends walked carelessly down the street, each whistling their nation's anthem in a tandem rhythm. As the Frenchman and the Spainard turned a corner, they were interrogated by their respective tsunderes, both incredibly angry for some reason or another.
Spain smiled obliviously (as he always does) and went in for a hug, but got halted by the snappy Italian's fist in his stomach, sending him gasping uncomfortably to the ground. France, for his part, kept it cool. Sending the Brit a playful smirk, he tried to reach around for the uptight man's ass, just to be smacked in the face for being a 'froggy wanker'.
South Italy oh-so-nicely asked why the two were smiling suspiciously like creepy bastards. The Spainard confessed after a particularly nasty glare from his tomatito made him crack, spilling the details of the plan and making the Frenchman sigh in defeat. France proceeded to clarify the situation more clearly to an ashamed Englishman as the Southern Italian gave his Spanish idiota a tomato to calm him down.
When he was done explaining, Britain plainly told him that he was going with them. Whether they liked it or not. He had to make it up to his former colony for throwing up his Weetbix with vegemite at that damn meeting last month.
Gah, he could still taste it even now!
France merely shrugged at the request, already figuring as much as he had done the same thing. Still, he urged his frenemy and hot-headed Italian frère to keep this info on the down-low for Prussia's sake. To which the Brit and Italian agreed, nobody noticing the fingers crossed behind Lovino's back.
The men all headed to their respective homes soon afterwards, except for Spain and South Italy who shared a villa together. Spain was preparing their suitcases for the secret vacation that Lovino didn't want to go on, when a thought occured to the irritated Italian.
The albino bastard said the macho potato would be paying for everything, so I'd be getting free labor AND running up his tab for three whole days.
That settled it. He would go to the potato sucker's place JUST to waste him a bunch of money and possibly get some blackmail material from the showers.
It was a well-known fact in European countries that in public showers, bathhouses, saunas and wherever else, you were expected to be naked. And if this was true then maybe he could get some dirt on the germy German's most guarded gun. But what else could he do to piss off the potato fucker?
Picking up his olive green cell phone, Lovino dialed the number of the only person who could make puppies cry with his eyes when he was denied of anything he wanted.
"Fratello!"
Feliciano.
"I'm so happy that you called because you never call! This is kinda confusing and-oh wait, I didn't let you answer again, I'm sorry! How are you, Lovi-Dovi~?" choosing to ignore that name he so loathed to be called, Lovino instead focused on his idea and just how easy his brother would make it for him.
"Peachy. Look, I'm sworn to secrecy or something lame as fuck, so I can't tell you what I'm doing for the next three days. Unless," he paused for dramatic effect, taking pride in the way his brother gasped in awe. "Nah, you'd probably screw it up."
"No, fratello, no! You can tell me whatever it is and I'll be quiet. See, I'm zipping my lips-ah, you can't see that.. Ve~ I promise anyway!" Feli exclaimed, curiousity indentifible in his cheery voice.
"You'll keep your trap shut then?" he asked impatiently, already bored of the fake charade.
"Sì. With a lock and a key." Feliciano saluted with his big goofy grin. Lovino could just tell when he did it without seeing him.
It was like his sixth sense or some bullshit.
Not feeling up to explaining to his brother that you couldn't lock a zipper, Lovino pretended to give his words a moment of thought before submitting to his brother's undeniable charm with a long suffering sigh of defeat. "Alright, I'll tell you... But you have to make sure you do this one other thing for me-"
"Of course, I'll do anything you say, mio fratello~ Anything!"
Well, since he did insist.
...
Lovino had told Feliciano not to tell everyone and their grandmother about Prussia's secret plan to smooth over relations with Australia. So naturally Feliciano had not only blabbed to everyone and their grandmother, but to the entire assembly of the world including the micronations, Osaka and Moldova. Whoever those last two were.
Word spread so fast that he got a half-threatening, half-whining text from the elder potato about it that same night. Prussia wanted, no, demanded to know why he would be so mean and elongate his time in "prison", causing Lovino to roll his hazel eyes and furiously type back the appropriate response of 'Because'. Receiving a text back almost automatically, the Italian turned off his phone with a huff. He didn't have time for that. He needed to come up with ways to torture the dumbass' brother.
The days passed by in a blur as the hot-tempered man got antsy for the trip. He couldn't wait to see the look on that potato bastard's face when he realized what had happened. To grab him by the hair and lick his frustrated tears, to taunt him about how stupid he is and laugh in his face as he wallowed in self-pity, trying to end his torment by wishing it away. He wouldn't get that wish.
Lovino was going to ensure that the next three days would be a living hell for the German and he was going to thoroughly enjoy making it so.
He repeated this to himself for hours on end during the flight to Germany with the Spaniard, the latter talking to him excitedly without noticing his lack of response.
"Lovi, ¡levántarse! Are you even awake?! The flight's landing, ir es tiempo! Let's go!" Antonio urged, shaking the Italian's shoulders as the plane slowly emptied leaving them alone in the cramped space of the coach section.
"Oi, oi! Slow down, you bastard! I only have two legs for a reason. I'm not a fucking ferris wheel, dammit!" Lovino shouted at his former boss to no avail, being pushed off of the plane by an adamant Antonio. He carried the least amount of bags while Antonio carried the rest like they were nothing, smiling that oblivious, closed-eyed smile that infuriated him to no end. The Spaniard was such a show-off. Damn idiot just had to lug all the big stuff and make him look like a lazy bastard. And then there were his muscles. Ugh, what he would give to skin off those muscles.
"Hola, mis amigos. We have arrived!" the exclamation made the irritated man snap out of his pleasant thoughts to see a room jam-packed with blonde-haired, blue-eyed Germans. So stereotypical. Well, he was in the potatohead's homeland, after all. He shuddered in disgust, remembering the time Feliciano had made him eat some schnitzel saying it was a new dieting meat.
He still hadn't forgiven him for it and that was at least seven months ago.
"Yo, bros! Over here! Come greet your one and only hero!" an obnoxiously American accent hollered from across the concourse, invoking a deep sense of dread within Lovino's subconscious.
Oh, not today...
As if reading his mind, a pair of toned arms grabbed him from behind, pressing the Italian flush against the chest of a laughing America who continued to dog on his McDonald's brand hamburger while simultaneously drinking his chocolate shake in a noisy fashion.
"Schwe hash to schwait 'til Cher-mmm-any 'ets h're 'hen schwe can go." America said in between chomps and slurps of his fatty food, only stopping when he didn't receive a response from his huggle victim.
The fuck did he say?
"He said 'We have to wait until Germany gets here then we can go' with his daily dose of radioactive horse meat obstructing his throat," the Brit turned his full attention to the American following his cow-to-human translation, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he calmly stated.
"Really America, I'm surprised you're not in a diabetic coma, what with all of the things you sneak out of the kitchen late at night." Britain nagged over a cup of instant tea, outwardly grimacing from its muddy flavor, emerald eyes challenged sky blue to say something otherwise.
"Not when I'm at your place..." was what America muttered against Lovino's hair, squeezing the squirmy man tighter as he breathed too close to the Italian's sensitive curl.
"What was that, America?" Britain asked owlishly, having thrown the offending imitation of his most favored beverage out seconds ago. America was opening his mouth to say something smart when a wooden boomerang whacked him square on the neck, knocking the proverbial wind out of him as a buff man came running to the scene, band-aid on his nose and pale green eyes smug with satisfaction of the perfect hit he had just made.
"Nothing important, mumsy. If we're all here now, shouldn't we go?" Australia beamed while his killer koala retrieved his instrument for him, Wy in tow with an impassive look on her pretty face.
"Yes, Mr. Germany has requested his guests come to the bus this instant, so we really should be going." Wy added, leaning on her giant paintbrush, not bothering to look anyone in the eye.
"Yay, come on, fratele mai mare. Numa numa!" Moldova cheered, his small top hat somehow staying put atop his shaggy brown hair while he pulled on Romania's trenchcoat, wanting him to stand up like everyone else was doing.
The hoard of nations began to make their way to the double-decker bus where Germany was waiting for them. At first glance, all one could tell was that his eyes were drooping as if he hadn't slept a wink, sweat soaked through his black tank top even in this the breeziest of afternoons. His usually slicked back hair lay limp against his forehead as he tried to push it out of his face, yawning widely every other second. With the quietest of sighs, he prepared himself for whoever came through that door across from him when he felt the bus dip down slightly, a telltale sign of his guests boarding.
Here came his headache...
"Germany, Germany! I thought you were at the splishy-splashy place getting it ready for us, but this is just as good, too. I wouldn't want you getting all pruney without anyone to pull you out. Hey Germany, do you think they have any pasta there? Ah, I love, love, love pasta~!" the shrill voice of the younger Italian said all at once, the blonde's body subsequently attacked by the annoying dummkopf who always caused the German tremendous grief.
It might as well have been a tank sitting on him, Feliciano was so unbelievably heavy. Where was Prussia with that verdammt aspirin when he needed it?
"Ita-Feli, how many times must I explain that while we are in public you must not call a country by their nation name," Feliciano tilted his head to the side.
Good, he was listening.
"Besides that, I didn't want everyone to get lost on their own, so I decided to rent a bus and escort you all there so Gilbert won't take his sweet time getting there. In addition to that, when we get to the waterpark I am assigning you all to parties of zweis to make sure nobody gets lost. If there's danger afoot, I have 112 on speed dial and a team of trained lifeguards on standby at the park. Understand?" Golden ambers stared at the tired powder blue eyes of his friend's before grinning wide as the information settled in his brain for a moment, squeezing his eyes happily shut (as they normally were), Feli clapped his hands and asked:
"So, you really do have pasta then?" this was all Germany needed to hear to facepalm miserably, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
Why had he agreed to do anything Prussia suggested again?
...
With all of the insanity of having the entire assembly of the world horseplaying and bickering in the cramped double-decker bus, it was a welcome change to step out of the suffocating air of unresolved family disputes, rivalries and sexual tension that plagued the five and a half hour ride there. It had all started when Sealand said he needed to tinkle, Germany telling him that there were toilets on the bus. After some time, Sealand again informed him that he needed to tinkle and right bloody now as it were. Germany figured the fort was being purposely difficult and made to inform Britain as such when a relieved Scotland exited one of the built-in bathrooms adjacent from the stairs, fanning in front of his pale face and lighting up a cigar.
"Aye mighta plugged up yer crapper, jus' sayin'. Aye woul'nt go in thar if aye were ya. T'ree days sound good, a'ight Luddy?" the Scottish man whispered the last part to the horrified German, laughing heartily at him. Allistor roughly smacked him on the back and walked away to, most likely, rile his brothers up some more.
And that was only the beginning.
Thirty minutes later after the mandatory bathroom break for Sealand, Seborga, Poland, Ukraine, Austria and Liechtenstein (whose brother Switzerland had to stand outside the door in case any perverts tried to barge in on his sister), Russia decided that now was a great time to be a distraction. Attempting to grab the preoccupied German by the waist, he was met with a strong hand pushing his face away while the other continued to steer the bus.
"What is it, Russia? I'm driving right now. Can't this, whatever you're doing, wait until later?" Germany asked, eyes glued to the road as the Russian let him sit in the chair with a disappointed pout on his chubby face.
"Why won't you kiss me?" Russia whined childishly, making Germany turn around in obvious shock and almost hit an oncoming vehicle, veering off to the left to avoid a collision, too busy catching his breath to notice the mom van blaring its horn at him. The awkward silence that ensued allowed him to find some words, any words, thankfully.
"Why w-would I k-kiss you?" Russia sighed.
"You kiss Italy and he's your friend, da? I thought we were friends, as well." Germany wondered what kind of face he was making, but didn't dare to turn around this time.
"We are friends." Russia scoffed disbelievingly.
"Then how come you kiss little Italy and not me?" It was Germany's turn to sigh now.
"Because..." he trailed off.
"Because what, Германии?" Germany coughed uncomfortably, Russia's tone was not sitting well with him.
"I-it's just different with Italien, alright?" Another period of silence engulfed the two, ending when a crash alerted them to something Germany didn't feel like acknowledging in his present state. He was too tired for any of this.
"No. It is not alright. I will make you do whatever it is I am wanting, and there's nothing you can do about it, friend." Russia stated cooly, leaving when a shout that sounded a lot like the yelp of a certain Chinese man being groped by his South Korean cousin erupted from the hall, capturing his interest for the time being.
Twenty more bathroom breaks, five Nordics ripping up his seats, three hungry Italians complaining about their state of "starvation", two failed hijackings of the bus when he was half asleep (by his own citizens!) and one too many spells coming this close to hitting him, Germany was past the stage of seeing red.
He was enraged. No, he was even worse. He wanted to explode into one of Hong Kong's firecrackers, the same ones that had blown out a few of his windows when he came back from fighting off a hijacker. Supposedly, Hong Kong lit them to throw at the would-be intruder but he forgot to open the windows first.
Yeah, right.
He rubbed his temples, trying to soothe his aching head. Really, how did his incompetent brother ever get him to this point? He knew he should've thought about it longer, analyzed the pros and cons and detail the consequences of a variety of varying variables, but no, he wanted to be nice and impulsive for once. He never did anything impulsive, he abided by laws and structured discipline. Not a schedule of reprimanding touchy feely Frenchmen, hiding a psychotic Belarusian woman's knives and shooing Greece's many cats out of the door. And yet, that's what he was doing.
Why, why was his life a living hell? Could he not have any peace?!
His answer came when he spotted the faint flashing of lights inside of a giant glass dome, pools of many kinds visible from his position.
This was it. The place he'd been driving to all day.
He could cry he was so overjoyed. But he didn't because he's Germany; and Germany doesn't cry over silly things like this. Thank you very much.
Germany was the first one out of the bus, landing on his side, he laughed hysterically into the pavement. Everyone thought he was broken, but he knew, oh, he knew. He was incredibly happy at that moment.
That wouldn't last very long.
By the time the traveling party had finally entered the waterpark resort's double doors, the employees still there were closing down registers and specialty shops as they wanted to get home as soon as they could. It was 22:57, so it was pretty late. Germany figured he should sign them in now and deal with whatever mishaps would happen in that time afterward.
Nodding to himself for coming up with a decent strategy in his current state, Germany instructed Prussia to lead their guests to the showers and let them wash off. Prussia gave his baby brother a mock salute as he walked down a series of stairs, leading the pack of nations to a white hall lined with wooden doors, stopping at a particularly worn door labeled 'Sauna' above the framed look-in window.
"If you want to sit around in a sweaty room with a bunch of glistening men, I'm warning you. You can't see shit-"
"Ahem!" Finland loudly coughed into his hand, Sweden covering Sealand's ears to protect his slowly evaporating innocence. Prussia rolled his red eyes.
"Don't even give me that shit, Fin. I know what you and my brother are like. We all know what you do to Big, Dark and Intimidating over there-"
"Alright, alright! You can be quiet now, Prussia. We're leaving." Finland said, glaring at his smirking husband. At least Peter's ears were covered.
"You better. Oh, and don't try to use the sauna when everyone's asleep, Germany and I found the tape-"
"Shut up, I won't, okay?!" Finland yelled, hating how much he must be blushing right now. But hating the low rumble of his husband's laughter even more.
"What tape?" Sealand asked innocently, looking between both of his dumbfounded parents for an answer.
"I can show you later if you want, little buddy!" Prussia announced to an elated Sealand.
"PRUSSIA! Peter, you're not watching any tapes. I'll find a box and you two can play. Isn't playing with Sve more fun than watching dirty things? Yes, yes it is." Finland rushed in a panic, grabbing both the genuinely confused Peter and still gaping Berwald by the hand and sprinting back the way they came before Prussia could promise anything else. The albino cackled at the quick retreat, finishing his explanation like nothing had just happened.
"What if I want to shower like a fucking normal person?" Lovino piped up from the rear of the crowd.
"Right over there. Why, you want to shower together, Lovi~?" Prussia winked seductively.
"In your dreams, potato bastard number two..." Lovino muttered, walking in no real direction. He smirked once the others were out of sight, getting that antsy feeling again. He was so close to his plan. So damn close.
The kraut won't know what hit him.
...
With a towel around his waist, Lovino crept into the white hall quietly, complimentary resort slippers tickling his feet. Hey, you never knew when someone wanted to show up for no other reason but to ruin your plans. Tanned hands lingered on the handle of the wooden door labeled 'Sauna', his earlier feeling was somehow even more intense, making him feel like he swallowed a colony of butterflies that wouldn't stop screwing with his stomach. He swallowed hard.
What the hell is my problem? He's bound to be in there, all I have to do is get a peek and leave. Simple as fuck. Nothing hard about that.
Except...
No, no. You're not admitting defeat. You were the one who came up with this genius plan and you came from home all the way to potatoland. Now you go in there and look at that boney cannelloni!
Yeah, he could do this. His name was Lovino Romano Vargas, bitch! He did whatever he wanted to, when he wanted to and right now what he wanted to see some was some dick, dammit!
Tentatively plunging the handle down and smoothly pushing the door open, Lovino was assualted by the salty smell of sweat from other's bodies. His pores were screaming at the tingling sensation of the heat as he entered and cautiously closed the door, successfully making a soundless entrance. Now if only he could see where he was going.
A wall of white clouds lifted momentarily, giving Lovino the tiniest of peeks at-
Just what the hell was that... THING?
He didn't know, though if this was who he thought it was..
Nah, I only saw it for a millesecond. I need to wait to really see it.
So he did, being the most patient he has ever been in his life, Lovino waited and waited and waited. Just to prove that he had seen it and it was from who he thought it was from, he wasn't a whore, you got that. He surpressed his urge to tap his feet, he was still an impatient Italian, after all.
Ah, there we go..
As another steam cloud was sent up into the air, Lovino had to hold in a gasp at the sight of the alleged thing.
Dude, what the fuck?!
The thing was the size of one of his arms. Hell, the size of one of Spain's arms and then some! How did something that big exist?! Mio Dio, was it pulsating at him? And he thought Spain's was huge! Was it real? There's no way it couldn't be, right?
"I can't see with all of this steam, could you do something about that?" asked a melodic, yet strange voice Lovino was sure he didn't remember.
"Oh, sure. Hold on a second." answered a pompous, snooty English accented man. England?
The next thing Lovino knew a pair of emerald eyes were staring back at his own hazels, the steam having cooled down the room gradually.
"Italy Romano? I thought you were sleeping. Hm, is there a reason you're still wearing a towel?" Lovino furrowed his eyebrows. Uh, yeah, was he not allowed to-?
Oh. Hell no.
There, in all his naked glory, stood England while that guy Lovino wasn't sure about sat, not having noticed him yet. It was too much, he wasn't prepared for all of this skin. Quickly running out of the sauna and sucking in a huge gulp of fresh air, Lovino panted for about ten minutes before hearing a door open and close. Not wanting to take his chances, he ran back to his suite with the Spaniard. Hopefully, the idiot would still be asleep and then he could take a damn shower.
Anything to get rid of his problem.
I've learned how to do many things with Fanfiction documents lately and they've made me so happy! XD
Anyway, this is the intro chapter to this really awesome Hetalia Kink I found on the website that I'm trying to fill. And I'm so, so, so, SO sorry, I meant to update something (ANYTHING) in the past month. But with testing and my horrible work ambition, I've had to push myself to write this over the past week. A freakin' week! And this wasn't even the first fill I attempted to write. :c
Bear with me with the characters, as I've never written most of these guys before. If you can't tell what the story's about, let me just sum it up for you - Wales has a huge... Bed snake? And in the span of three (four days, give or take), he's gonna be the guy everyone wants (besides his brothers; I don't write that stuff). I need to find the page with this prompt... I'm surprised it hadn't been filled yet, except if it is, I would love to see it then. Seriously, send it to me if it is.
I'm glad I don't have school this morning, otherwise I couldn't have finished this. But really, I feel terrible about taking so long to write something so basic! I just want to make sure it's good before I push it out, or else I think it sucks period. Ah, so, is this good? Bad? You want a follow-up chapter to this? Please tell me your opinions (good or bad), I'd love to hear back from you guys. Thank you! :)