A/N: I wrote this for my friend who ships JapanUK. I have a soft spot for the pairing but I never expected my soft spot to end up like this.

I feel slightly guilty that the person this was for edited this. Oh Minerva, forgive me and thank you. As for Chester, thank you for proofreading.

Warnings: Language, potential OOCness, Canadian spelling, twoshot, dark times ahoy, character death, possessive love etc...

Characters: Japan and UK. Brief appearances from France, USA, Germany and North Italy.

Pairings: Japan x UK

Word count: 1545

Disclaimers: I don't own Hetalia or Australia.


The Cardinal Sins

To be everything and more is the simplest, yet most futile, of desires.


Greed

They had been empires with tremendous power, and their domination over others could only be described as relentless, cold, and brutal.

Times have changed, fading their thoughts of conquest, and with it their expansionist ideals and power waned. Now the two can only reminisce while gazing upon the spoils of exploits long passed. The true value, the reason why they kept the objects is obscure to all except for them. Others only saw ornate decorations from over the centuries. But they knew their meaning, their secrets.

Arthur prides himself on his jewels and rugs from India, gold and tattered maps retained from his pirate days, tribal masks collected from the vast expanses of Africa.

For Kiku, Chinese artifacts are the centerpieces in his home, beside the weapons from his victories over Russia and the silk tapestries from Korea.

When one visits the other's home, their conversations inevitably, without fail, turns towards the past. Because in the past the world had trembled at their feet. In the past, they had been so close to destroying the other, body and mind. Even now, in this age of globalization and peace, if either of them wanted to, they could still destroy the other at any given time.

It was only fair to give warning.


Wrath

A gun was pointed at a stoic Asian man, the barrel roughly shoved into the Asian's temples in the hope he would break down into tears. The man holding the revolver teased his captive as he repeatedly feigned pulling the trigger.

His green eyes glimmered with glee in the hellhole. A feral grin arrogantly decorated his face as his aim was unwavering, waiting, almost begging, for his prey to move. To show weakness. To give into the utter despair that eagerly waited to embrace him.

A stony dark gaze refused to waver even as the ropes cut into his skin, and the man knew any attempts to remove them would be futile.

A clock ticked in the background, relentless, oh so relentless, until the Westminster Quarters sounded.

The Japanese man would never know what hour it was because the bell ended in a blast that resounded in the darkness.

It was 12:00.


Gluttony

As Kiku eats his mochi, a queer look flits across his face as an equally curious thought crosses his mind. He imagines one of them wearing a top hat and possessing thick eyebrows, reminiscent of ones that hover over verdant eyes. Verdant eyes that would always taunt him, playful and gleeful and so dangerous it made him shiver in both anticipation and longing, a strange combination. It was fitting though, since the man who provoked the emotions was an oddity himself. A mass of contradictions... His musings are interrupted as his stomach rumbles, demanding more food. He brings another mochi close to his lips. There is a brief moment when he seems about to kiss it. But then his lips pass and the mochi passes through for sharp incisors to tear into it. He slowly chews, savouring its taste, its texture, and then promptly swallows.

For a moment, that morsel had been special but now it is forgotten as the intake of that one treat sates his hunger for only a fraction of a moment.


Sloth

When Arthur interacts with the other nations, Kiku remains seated, enjoying his cup of green tea.

When Kiku quietly converses with others, Arthur remains seated, enjoying his earl grey.

Both knowing, believing, hoping beyond desperation that the other will make the first move since they cannot seem to rouse themselves to do it, no matter how strong the longing is.


Pride

The two were engaged in a unceasing game of cat and mouse. It was a sick game, since it dealt with feelings they claimed to be void of. Both were proud beings, and as such loathed the thought of risking it for something as trivial as love. Holding in their feelings was far easier to do than to reclaim lost pride. By unspoken agreement, the game would continue until one of them broke and confessed.

When they conversed, Kiku would remain stoic, his gaze cold and his body rigid, unwilling for any of the emotions he ruthlessly crushed to escape. Arthur was no different. He projected an air of cold civility. His words were cordial, but hollow. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a horrible game, and both wanted for it to end. But they had come so far, the roles were blurred, there was no end in sight since if one broke, there would be nothing left to love.

Such was their nature, and the game they played.


Envy

When Kiku witnesses Arthur with a blush slowly creeping on his face as he converses with Alfred, he can't but help turn away with a sharp look of disgust.

If anyone inquires about his peculiar reaction, he simply inclines his head and murmurs excuses. How he is not feeling well, how he was preoccupied by unimportant musings, about how much work he has to attend to and how he wishes to be excused.

He is a master at equivocation at this point.

These answers always satisfy the other party and they turn back to whatever it was they were doing previously.

Arthur is no better.

Whenever Alfred stands beside Kiku, a flustered blush is predominant on the Asians face. Arthur can't stand this.

Not. One. Bit.

So he'll stalk past Alfred and utter cold, clear, cutting words like 'you bloody git' or 'fat ass wanker'. Some days when he's in a particularly vicious mood he'll hiss vicious words about the past, how he wished that he had only taken Matthew in, how Alfred had always been a brat that he never cared about, how he had been a burden upon the Empire. And each and every time, regardless of the hero front Alfred displayed to the world, hurt would radiate from sky blue eyes. Arthur never cared about the pain he inflicted on Alfred though. All that mattered was that the attention that the Japanese man had received would disappear.

If only Alfred would no longer be so oblivious to the fact that he was trying to become a third wheel in their relationship.


Lust

Every world conference would be the same sordid affair.

Kiku hated the fact that during what was supposed to be a conference to address pressing issues, Arthur would be harassed by Francis and Alfred, groped and flirted with relentlessly. No matter how much Arthur protested, no matter how sharp his words were and how many times he slapped their offending appendages away, the duo would persist.

Those impervious, brazen, perverted leeches. Where is their sense of shame? Those desperate fools, why can they not harass each other?

Kiku did not approve of this. At. All. Each grope caused an unspeakable emotion to flare in his heart and every touch,every sultry look would make him bare his teeth. The bloodlust from his imperial days would be roused, and he would be forced to sit upon his hands, to still the age-old motion of reaching for a katana no longer strapped to his side. How he missed the clear ring of steel being unsheathed! If only he could spill blood, if only...

Arthur was his.

Whenever these thoughts came to Kiku, his monochrome gaze would clear and an imperceptible red shine would flash in his eyes. If Yao happened to look at Kiku at the time, he would flinch away. Those eyes...

They shined, danced with sadistic mirth as crimson sprayed everywhere. Pain, pain, pain...

They would forever represent destruction and carnage...

At the same time, similar thoughts would run through the Briton's mind.

Kiku would always receive seemingly innocent hugs from the airhead Feliciano and friendly- almost too friendly (for Arthur's liking anyway) - pats on his shoulder from Ludwig, that bloody damned stoic.

Each touch would nearly drive Arthur into a frenzy, and the sheer desire to destroy the fools for touching what was his would nearly overcome him. He was no longer an empire, but that hardly meant that his possessiveness had waned. No, it never abated. The sun used to always shine upon him, and he could still remember the heady rush of power from those times. But then everything collapsed before his eyes. He could hardly be faulted for being so possessive over what he still had. So that part of his character lingered, lurking beneath the surface, cooing at him in such pleading tones...

There was a reason he would loudly proclaim that he was a gentleman. It was to remind himself that times had changed, and he could no longer act as he wished...

He did take his anger out on the wankers that harassed him though. They were oblivious, and it allowed him to have an outlet to vent.

When the torturous, thrice-damned conference ended and everyone spilled out from the room Arthur and Kiku would stay behind after making excuses to everyone. They would lunge at each other with feral gleams in their eyes and teeth bared. They would grapple, trying to gain dominance. In that stark room they would nip, bite, tear each other proving that the other was theirs and that no one could touch them.

No one.


A/N: I'm just going to cry in the corner for a bit. Part two of this twoshot will be up eventually. If I don't get around it within a month, message me.

Comments, questions and criticisms are welcome. If you wish to flame me, nothing is stopping you there, but at least make it good. Nothing brightens my day more than some good flames.