Title: It Started With My Roommate's Lacy Bra
Author: Neville (I Am The Cake Fairy)
Genre: Humour, Romance. AU
Warnings: Lame-College-Alternate-Universe, an Absurdly-Large-Amount of Cursing, a Poorly-Written-and-Clearly-Clichéd Plot, Complete Gen-Flips, and PreFemSlash. Oh yes. I am being daring tonight!
Author's Note: I am (quite possibly only temporarily) back! Oh yes, dear readers, be terrified! Nay, be paralyzed by the sheer horror of the idea! (Why yes, I do believe my writing to be that bad.) First off, this is my first attempt at a Hetalia fan-fiction. For that, you can thank the lovely CaCoPhOnY Of ScReAmS (and by this, I truly do mean thank her: she is an awesome writer, and I get a lot of inspiration from her). I would also like to note that the names for Alfred (Ali F. Kirkland) and Arthur (Aretha Kirkland) were thought up by her.
Disclaimer: "Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use." This is for personal/ entertainment purposes; I own nothing. If I did own Hetalia, it would be a lot less educational. No, seriously. I'm just not that smart.
Playlist: Multilanguage Disney songs. Those things are addicting.
Note on Names: England is Aretha Kirkland, America is Ali F. Jones, France is Francine Bonnefoy, and Canada is Maddie Williams. Surprise guests include Poland as Filipina Łukasiewicz (according to a name site, it is a Polish name that means "Lover of Horses," which caused me to chuckle darkly) and Lithuania as Toria Lorinaitutė (I did some serious research on this, so sorry if the last name does not match up well based on marriage status, etc. Not gonna lie, the research was fun.)
-u-
Aretha stared in poorly concealed fury at the lacy bra dangling from the handle of her dorm room door. The bra itself wasn't too offensive; it was size 34B, a simple cream colour, and, considering its owner, surprisingly modest and tasteful. (In fact, the modesty and simplicity of the bra was almost so surprising that for a moment, Aretha thought the bra was her own. But no, wait, she was a C-cup, wasn't she, pointed out small part of her mind with no small amount of pride.) No, on its own, the bra was a harmless piece of polyester hanging by one of its shoulder straps off well-used doorknob. It was what the bra represented that had Aretha trembling in rage.
Francine had brought one of her conquests back to the dorm with her - and didn't want any interruptions.
For a brief moment, she considered walking into the dorm anyway, out of spite, but the muffled thumps and groans coming from behind the door stilled the twitch her hand made toward the knob. An unneeded memory from the last time she had tried that flashed across her mind and she shuddered. Her other hand clenched around the shoulder strap of her bag and, flushing angrily, she turned away from her dorm and made for the common area.
Tossing her head so that her long blond ponytails cracked like whips behind her, Aretha muttered darkly to herself about bloody nymphomaniac room mates who never actually wore the bras they owned.
"And of course," she continued as she descended the stairs to the common area, "she chooses tonight of all nights to bring someone home. The night before one of the most important midterms of my college life! If I fail tomorrow, there's no way I shall be able to keep my grades up enough to pass!"
Kicking the door open at the bottom of the stairs, Aretha didn't bother apologising to the girl who was in the way and ended up getting smacked in the face. Clutching her nose and cowering in on herself as her curly blond hair fell from its loose bun to settle around her shoulders, the smaller girl watched in silent terror as Aretha stormed down the hall still muttering to herself. Aretha soon found herself in the almost empty common area and sighed. Ignoring the two other girls in the room, she sat in her favourite chair and resisted the urge to slouch; she couldn't let some French deviant cause her to lapse from being an absolutely invincible English gentlewoman! She pulled her bag from off her shoulder and rummaged in it until she found her notebook and a copy of the literature assignment. Plucking the pencil she kept tucked behind her ear, she turned her full attention to her assignment, determined to get some work done while she was restricted from her room.
"I wonder what's up with Aretha," one of the girls, a slim brunette with layered shoulder-length hair, murmured to the other, placing a finger in her book to hold her place. Her companion, a petite blonde with a similar haircut lounging next to her in a faded plaid button down shirt, snorted and continued trying to spin the basketball on her finger.
"Like, who cares, Toria?" she laughed, swinging her legs up onto the couch she was sitting on so that her feet were resting in the brunette's lap. "She's, like, not in any pain or whatever, and besides, aren't I, like, totally more interesting?"
Toria let out a sigh, but allowed a small smile to pull at her lips. "Totally, Filipina." She made as if to return to reading her book, but paused, looking down at the feet settled in her lap. "Oh gross, Fili!" she said, grimacing at the blonde's ratty Converses. "I don't want dirt on my skirt! Why didn't you take your shoes off? Better yet, why haven't you gotten new shoes yet? You've had these since junior year of high school!"
"But Toria," Filipina whined, abandoning the basketball in favour of playing with one of the many holes in her jeans, "Next to you, these shoes are, like, my best friends! Like, do you know how hard it is to find shoes as totally awesome as these?" The blonde let out a soft giggle as her friend rolled her eyes and brushed at her dark blue pleated skirt before going back to reading her book.
A comfortable silence enveloped the room, disturbed only by the scratching of Aretha's pencil and the turning of the pages in Toria's book. After some time, the blonde sighed loudly, and reached forward to poke Toria's cheek. When the brunette ignored her, Filipina continued to poke her, waiting a few seconds between each poke. At last, Toria turned to give her companion an exasperated look. Filipina giggled and extended her finger to poke the other girl's nose, but Toria darted forward and snapped at the air just in front of the offending digit. The blonde squealed and leaned in to rub her nose against Toria's. The brunette's face grew bright red, but she continued the Eskimo kiss.
Almost forgotten, Aretha felt a blush quickly spreading over her cheeks and ears and looked away from the two affectionate girls.
Filipina swung her legs back down to the floor and snuggled up against her friend. "Hey, Toria?"
"Yeah?" the girl responded, her face still as bright as ever.
"Do you, like, have the time?"
Toria glanced at her phone that was sitting on the end table next to the couch. "Almost nine thirty; why?"
"Like, oh my gawd, Toria! The game's on tonight," the blonde shouted, jumping up from the couch. She began tugging at the slightly bemused brunette. "We're, like, totally gonna miss it if you don't hurry up!"
"Wait, Fili, I need to grab my stuff!"
In a whirl of faded plaid and blue pleats, the two girls were gone down the hall. A slight blush still tinting her cheeks, Aretha sighed and turned her focus back to her assignment.
-u-
"Well, I least I've finished my lit," Aretha mumbled, tucking the pencil back into her hair. Sliding the notebook and assignment sheet back into her bag, she stood from her chair and stretched. After feeling her back pop two times, she relaxed and smoothed down her modest olive green skirt. Pulling her phone out of her shoulder bag, she checked the time and found it to be ten forty-five. Surprisingly, the common area had remained empty ever since the blonde and brunette left; apparently, the students were actually taking midterms seriously this semester.
"That bloody pervert better be done by now," Aretha said to herself, shooting a dark glare in the general direction of her dorm. Shrugging her bag back onto her shoulder, she made her way down the brightly lit, if empty, hallway that led to the stairs. Just as she was reaching for the handle, the door burst open, nearly hitting Aretha in the face as karma quickly and efficiently doled out justice.
"Da-na-na-na-na-na, BATMAN!" shouted the person from the entrance to the stairs, who happened to be a tall, athletic girl in an oversized McDonald's "We Love to See You Smile" tee shirt and scandalously short stars-and-stripes pyjama shorts. She stood in what could only be described as a 'heroic' pose, with one fist on her hip and the other in the air, her glasses sliding up her nose as she looked vaguely upwards.
She froze when she noticed Aretha glaring at her. When Aretha raised an eyebrow at her, she erupted into frenzied action.
"Oh my gosh, are you okay? I didn't hit you, did I? Are you hurt?" the girl babbled as she stepped into Aretha's personal bubble. Aretha made a frustrated noise and flushed as she attempted to push the girl off her.
"I'm fine, I'm fine! Just gerrof me!"
"Sorry, sorry!" the girl said, a hand coming up to ruffle her own chin length blonde hair, leaving one of her bangs standing straight up. Just by listening to the girl's accent, not to mention seeing her choice of clothing, Aretha was quite positive that this girl was an American. With this fact alone, Aretha could feel her irritation with the girl grow. Much to her vexation, the idiot was still talking.
"I can't tell you how many times my roommate's told me not to kick the door open! I guess I should really listen to her, but sometimes it's so easy to forget she's there, you know? I mean, we've known each other since high school and all, but she just seems to blend in to everything! Just the other day-"
"Listen," Aretha interrupted, crossing her arms across her chest. "I honestly don't care. Please move so I can go back to my dorm."
The girl frowned, but moved out of the way. As Aretha reached the landing for the first floor, she could hear the other blonde shout, "Hope your night gets better, Miss Grumpy Gills!"
Aretha flushed and slammed the door to the stairwell.
She continued walking down the hallway, staring at the worn linoleum floor and telling herself that the heat in her cheeks was from her exasperation at the American and not the fact that she had noticed the other girl wasn't wearing a bra.
So caught up was she in her thoughts, Aretha barely noticed when she reached the door to her dorm. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she looked towards the door. When she opened her eyes, she nearly screamed.
The bra was still there, in all of its feminine lacy glory.
"Fuck," she said, quite loudly. She backed up so that she was leaning against the wall opposite her door, and slowly slid down until her backside hit the floor. She cradled her head and sighed, "Fuck," again.
She needed sleep, or that midterm was going to kick her ass. Quickly going through the names of her friends in her head, Aretha quickly determined that she had no where to stay for the night. It wasn't that she didn't have that many friends, she'd vehemently argue, it was just that…well…as an absolutely invincible British gentlewoman, she had to make sure anyone who might be called her friend had to meet a certain set of standards, and very few people at the University happened to meet all requirements. Yes. That was it. Her friendship troubles aside, she really did need to find someplace to stay for the night; judging by the relative silence from behind her dorm's door, Aretha could guess that Francine had either fallen asleep without remembering to remove the bra, or was spiting her.
Aretha was willing to bet a great deal of money on the latter.
The sound of a door opening caused Aretha to lift her head as, against her will, hope swelled in her chest. Too late she realised that the sound was too distant to be from the door in front of her, and Aretha turned her head to look desolately at the door to the stairwell. Somehow, she was unsurprised to see it was the blonde idiot from earlier; of course her night had to get worse. The blonde had a can of Coke in one had and was using the other to press buttons on her phone; Aretha noted, with a mix of relief and annoyance, that the other girl hadn't noticed her. Sighing, she returned her face to the cradle of her hands. She listened to the soft pad of the girl's bare feet on the linoleum and prayed to whatever higher power that was listening that the girl's footsteps wouldn't stop by her.
And of course, they did.
"Well, hey," came the bright and cheery voice of the American, "if it isn't Miss Grumpy Gills!"
Aretha lifted her head and glared despondently up at the girl's wide grin. "Why, pray tell, do you insist upon making my night worse?"
The girl laughed and dismissively waved a hand at Aretha. "Whatever, honey, you don't even know me. Speaking of which…I'm Ali F. Jones! Now it's your turn to tell me your name!"
Tipping her head back against the wall, Aretha asked, "If I tell you, will you go away?"
"Maybe!"
"Fine," she sighed, and lightly shook the hand Ali offered her. "It's Aretha Kirkland."
"Nice to meet you," the girl laughed. She paused and looked at Aretha. "Hey, you're British aren't you? I love your accent!"
"Really?" Aretha asked, feeling the sarcasm easily slip into the word. "I find yours quite irritating."
Unsurprisingly, Ali just laughed at the insult. She looked down at the blonde at her feet and seemed to realise for the first time that the girl was sitting on the floor in the middle of an empty hallway fairly late at night. "So, why are you out here? I mean, Midterms are tomorrow, right?"
Aretha flushed and looked away, making a vague waving motion towards her door. "My room mate's locked me out. She has someone over."
"Someone over? Like…oh. Oh!"
When the American girl fell silent, Aretha turned to look at her; her brows were furrowed and she appeared to be thinking. "Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?" she asked the girl on the floor.
"Not really, no," Aretha found herself answering.
"Well," Ali drawled, a slight southern accent showing, "I guess you could spend the night in my dorm."
Aretha expected herself to respond, "No, thank you, I'd rather sleep out here than bunk with an American ditz," but what came out was, "What about your roommate?"
"Who?"
"Your roommate. The person who also inhabits your room," Aretha sighed, feeling herself grow irritated again.
"Oh yeah! My roommate…she's out tonight, I think. I guess, I mean she's not here, so she's probably out, right?" Ali laughed again. "Anyway, are you in?"
Aretha stared at Ali, weighing her pros and cons. If she accepted Ali's offer, she could get a good night's sleep, and would be in a better state of mind to take her midterms. On the other hand, she had just met the girl and knew all of about three things about her: she was loud, she was American, and she apparently was willing to offer her room to complete strangers. Only the last of those could have endeared the girl to her, but - as she was thinking this she stifled a yawn - she really did need her sleep…
"Alright, then," she conceded, taking the offered hand and allowing Ali to help her up, "I'll take you up on your offer."
"Cool, it'll be just like a sleep over!" the taller blonde exclaimed, giggling. Aretha stared at her, readjusting the shoulder strap of her bag. Ali didn't seem to notice, and began walking to the end of the hallway before stopping at a door and pushing it open; Aretha noted that she hadn't even bothered properly closing it, let alone locking it, before leaving.
The first thing Aretha noticed about Ali's dorm was that appeared to be split clear down the middle. One side of the room was neat an organised: the doors to the closet were closed; the floor was clean and recently vacuumed; even the bed was made, corners tucked in with a military precision. The other was nothing less than a disaster area: burger wrappers and soda cans were strewn across the floor, mixing with discarded socks and bras; the closet doors were open, with even more laundry flowing out onto the floor; the bed was messy and unmade with a laptop sitting open in the middle; there was even a shirt hanging over the lamp on the bedside table. Aretha immediately knew that the chaos belonged to Ali.
"You can sleep over there," Ali said, pointing at the neatly made bed. She closed the door behind them. "She keeps her side pretty clean, so you don't have to worry about catching anything, or something like that." Ali paused and gazed intensely and the wall the bed sat against. Aretha raised an eyebrow at the girl, but turned and put her bag on the floor by the bed. Just as Aretha was reaching up to take down her two ponytails, Ali shouted, "MADDIE! That's her name!"
Aretha jumped, and turned to look at the now broadly grinning girl incredulously. "You're completely gormy, aren't you?"
Ali stared blankly at her. "What does that mean?"
The smaller blonde ignored her and went back to taking down her hair. After a couple moments of awkward silence, Aretha turned to glance at Ali only to see that the other girl was looking at her curiously. "What?"
"You'll probably want something to sleep in, yeah? That skirt doesn't look like it'd be very comfortable in bed." Aretha blushed and opened her mouth to protest, but Ali had already flounced over to her closet and was rummaging through one of the clothes baskets. With an "aha!" she pulled out a large "I Heart New York" tee shirt and Superman boxers. "Will these work for you?" she asked, handing them out towards Aretha.
Aretha snorted. "Are you absolutely sure they're sanitary?"
"You know," Ali said, frowning as she placed a hand on her hip, "You could be a lot less of an ass to the girl who took you in without even knowing you."
"Fine," Aretha said, her blush increasing. She grabbed the clothes and paused before saying softly, "Thank you."
"No problem!" The girl grinned and flashed a thumb's up. "Besides, I'm the heroine and as a heroine, I must do my best to save any damsels in distress! Even if they are as cranky as you!"
Aretha choked on air and felt her blush grow deeper. "I'm not a damsel in distress! I just happened to be down on my luck!"
Ali laughed loudly and obnoxiously, reaching forward to poke the smaller blonde's cheek. "You're so cute when you're flustered, Artie!"
"I-it's Aretha, and shut up!"
Ali giggled again and jumped onto her own bed, curling one of her legs under her. She tapped the touch pad to wake it up and began typing on the keyboard. Clutching the clothes the other girl had given her, Aretha shifted awkwardly, wondering if she should leave the dorm room to change in their floor's bathroom. Noticing Aretha hadn't moved since she received the clothes, Ali looked at her curiously.
"Well? Go on and change then!"
Aretha started and glared at the other. "N-not with you watching, you git!"
The taller blonde put her hands up in the universal 'I surrender' motion and turned back to her computer. "I'm not, I'm not," she said, "I'm just sitting here, innocently checking my email, honest!"
The British girl let out a "humph" and turned her back on Ali to change. As she pulled the shirt over her head, she could hear Ali pull out a drawer and rummage in it before closing it again. After she was properly dressed in the clothes Alia had loaned her, Aretha turned back to face the other girl. She opened her mouth to say something, but noticed that the American was staring intensely at the screen, eyes wide, and had headphones on. Out of curiosity, Aretha moved to peak over her shoulder to see the screen, and saw that the girl was watching a poorly filmed movie.
Plucking one of the earbuds from the girl's ear, Aretha asked, "What are you watching?"
Ali yelped and scrambled away from the British girl, eyes wide in shock and fear. Aretha blinked in confusion at Ali and raised her eyebrow when the American began laughing a little shakily.
"Oh, it's just you, Artie," she said, heaving a sigh of relief.
"Aretha. And who else would it have been, you twit?" she asked, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Haha, I thought you were a gho-uhh, someone else."
Aretha rolled her eyes. "So what is it that you are watching?"
"Hmm?" Ali looked up from the screen, after hitting 'pause.' "Oh it's just a horror movie my friend let me borrow Paranormal something or another, I think."
"Ah."
With nothing else to say, Aretha turned to the other bed and pulled down the comforter, revealing white sheets with red maple leaves. Ignoring the many questions that popped into her head at the sight of the sheets, Aretha slid into the bed. She turned to tell Ali that she was going to sleep, but the other girl was already too enraptured by the movie to listen. Aretha rolled her eyes and leaned over the side of the bed to reach her bag; pulling out her phone and setting her alarm for the morning, she also extracted her iPod.
The British girl drifted off to sleep with Ali's soft "eep!"s punctuating the lulls in her music.
-u-
Aretha was awoken by a hand shaking her shoulder rather roughly and a voice whispering in her ear, "Artie! Artie, please wake up!" She attempted to swat the hand away and ignore the voice, rolling over to face the other way. Despite this, the hand returned with more fervour than ever, and voice was getting louder and more hysterical.
"Please, Artie! I neeeeed you!"
No longer pretending to be asleep, Aretha groaned loudly and sat up, reaching over to turn on the lamp that sat on the bedside table. She turned her attention to Ali, who was kneeling by the side of her bed, the other girl's face alarmingly close to her own. Ali's eyes, wide and very blue without her glasses, were glistening with tears, and she was biting her lower lip. Aretha felt her cheeks begin to heat up as the word 'adorable' flashed across her mind.
Hurriedly, so as to get that idea out of her head, Aretha asked, "Why did you wake me up in the middle of the bloody- what time is it anyways?" She reached forward and grabbed at her phone. "Why did you wake me up at bloody three in the morning?"
Ali grabbed at her hand and Aretha was slightly worried when she realised that the other girl was trembling.
"I don't want the ghosts to get me," she whispered.
The smaller blonde yawned. "So you woke me up because…?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Aretha levelled deadpan look at the girl. "What."
"Uhm, the ghosts are more likely to go after us if we're separated, so we need to sleep together! Like, think buddy system!"
"You won't let me go back to sleep until I let you have your way, will you?"
Managing a shaky grin, she shook her head. "Nope!"
"Fine, get in."
"Thank you, Artie!"
Aretha frowned, but scooted to the other side of the bed as far as she could. "It's Aretha."
She felt the bed dip as Ali settled in the bed next to her and, despite her best efforts, she could feel the blush in her cheeks begin to grow anew. Sighing, she turned away from the other girl to face the wall. She closed her eyes, wondering where her iPod had gone, and was about to drift off again when Ali kicked the back of her thigh, very nearly giving her a Charlie horse.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" she hissed, turning to face the American.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ali whispered back, trying to slide further away. She made a face as she felt the bed slope out from under her. "Do you think you could move over a bit, Artie?"
"No," Aretha hissed, not even bothering to correct the other, "I'm already up against the wall! It's a twin-sized bed; did you expect two full-grown girls two fit comfortably?"
"Well, I figured that since you were pretty short, it'd be alright," the taller blonde responded. Aretha huffed and was about to suggest that Ali get out and sacrifice herself to the ghosts so she could get a good night's sleep when the girl interrupted her. "No, no, here, I've got an idea. Turn the other way, and get as close to the wall as you can, okay?"
Aretha sighed, but did as she was told. She nearly screamed as she felt Ali's arms wrap around her, just above her bellybutton, and felt her chest press against her back.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, her face burning in the dark. Nope, definitely no bra on.
"I'm making it possible for us to share the bed comfortably," came Ali's response, warm breath brushing against her neck. Aretha shivered. "Just accept it, alright? I'm not letting go."
And despite her common sense screaming no!, despite the fact that she had just met this girl a couple of hours ago and was now spooning with her, despite the fact (or maybe because of it) that she had a possibly fatal midterm in the morning, Aretha surprisingly did accept it. She was asleep within a few minutes.
-u-
Aretha woke up at seven as her phone began playing its tinny alarm tone and immediately noticed that Ali's hand, which has by resting on her stomach when she fell asleep, had moved significantly upwards since then. Ali's other hand, which was trapped under Aretha's body, was touching on the small amount of skin that had been revealed when Aretha's shirt had ridden up while she was asleep. The other girl's forehead was resting on her shoulder, and Ali's legs were wrapped almost possessively around her own.
Never before had Aretha leapt out of bed as quickly as she did then.
Unfortunately for her, her legs were still tangled with Ali's, and she ended up nearly falling to floor in her haste. She quickly righted herself, and grabbed her phone and shut it off before throwing it, and all of her clothing, back into her bag.
Awakened by the noise and motion, Ali sat up in bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "What'cha doing, Artie?" she slurred after a particularly large yawn.
Aretha started and gave Ali a deer-in-the-headlights look before straightening and pulling her bag back onto her shoulder.
"Thank you very much for letting me stay with you last night," she said quickly, a blush still staining her cheeks. "It was very kind of you and I'm quite positive that my midterm grade will reflect your benevolence." She was babbling now, she could tell, so she quickly made her way to the door, stepping over a shirt that had somehow crossed over from Ali's side of the room.
"Hey Artie," Ali called out just as Aretha's hand touched the door, "If you ever need a place to stay for the night again, don't hesitate to come knocking on my door, alright?"
Aretha blushed even harder, but managed to mumble "yeah" before she rushed down the hall to her own dorm's door which was, by then, braless.
-u-
Ve. I think I'm addicted to fem!Poland now. No lie, when I get to college I want to either be someone like her, or date someone like her.
But this. This was a bitch to write, if only because I'm so out of practice writing. But, because I was so totally out of practice, I decided to write out an outline for this. (I was so proud of myself!) Except, the outline was about two pages in Word… So I'm terribly sorry this story is so long with so little going on in it. (over 5,000 words, futherduckers!) I need to learn how to condense, yeah? Uhm. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Also, if you see any typos, etc., please do tell me! I have no beta…and I'm lazy.
Does anyone else think that the idea of male!Hungary creeping on the girl!pairings is less cute and more creepy than regular Hungary creeping on the male!pairings?