Title: Broom Closet
Summary: At another World Meeting, America is fairly sure he can hear his little brother getting terrorized by the "awesome" ex-nation in that broom closet over there, and heroes need to protect their little brothers.
Warning: many things, PruCan (I don't think I even need to warn about slash/yaoi/gay in the Hetalia fandom…), things implied, blaaghhhh. T rating may be too low.
Disclaimer: Stupid idea is mine, but Hetalia is not.
Prompt 5 of 64: Degrees
A/N:
Yes, this is what came into my mind when I read "degrees". Don't ask.
…Shit, it's cold.
Also, I know, Gilbert's birthday was yesterday, but I was sick and had school and it took me a few more hours than I had to finish re-reading for errors and shiz. :U Whatever, happy birfday, Prussia.
Read on, children, read on.
—
America grinned deviously as he slinked closer to the door, keeping his steps quiet and checking the hallway quickly and thoroughly before bending down and putting an ear to the wood, hoping it wasn't thick enough to muffle the conversation. He had spotted his brother and that creepy, egotistical ex-nation leaving the meeting room twenty minutes before they had been broken up for lunch (America had absolutely not gotten Wy to follow them and tell him where they had gone. Absolutely not).
It took much concentration on America's part, but he managed and settled into a comfortable position as he waited for the perfect moment to strike.
"Ahh, that's great. Right there. Again." A throaty moan. "Holy shit, you have fingers like a fucking god."
"P-Prussia, please, keep it down."
America flared, that pervert! Taking advantage of his brother, this hero would not be having that.
"I'm sorry, kid, but you are-–" another moan, louder and deeper "–amazing. A-fucking-mazing."
Stupid goddamn drunkard.
"T-thanks..."
"Where did you even learn this shit?" A groan and a heavy sigh.
"Papa taught me mostly. The rest were tips I got from the internet and trial-and-error."
"Ah, France, of course that makes–" another moan interrupted his sentence. "Sense."
"A-actually, it was England."
There was silence as America nearly gagged and fainted, and he assumed Prussia was most likely doing the same.
"I'm a little weirded out, but this feels too awesome for me to care too much, and not nearly enough to make you stop. Hey, go back to that one s-s-spot!" A moan slurred his words and messed his speech as America could only assume Canada had gotten "that spot".
"R-right there?"
"Yeah, right there."
"You should think about making this a career. You'd get paid shit loads."
"…I don't th-think so."
"Or keep those magic fingers for me and the weekends." There was a cackle and then a slap.
"Easy, Birdie! Save that kind of stuff for Saturdays!"
"P-Prussia! That's absolutely ho–"
"Hot?"
"I was going to say horrible."
"You suck."
"Not nearly as wonderfully as you do."
The bickering continued on as America straightened himself and walked back to the meeting, thoroughly mentally disturbed.
—
A/N:
P.S. This is stupid; ignore it.
P.S.S. Matthew was simply giving Prussia a massage you see, that is all.