Author: Warfang
I do not own Hetalia in any way. I only learned about Hetalia by joining the anime Club, so you can thank them for this.
On with the story!
1)Make sure to relax your partner. They should be at ease. Usually a towel or mat is best to have prepares along with music and oil.
2)Make sure your partner is comfortable. Ask them what feels good.
3)Avoid putting pressure on bones. At all times, try to focus on the flesh that surrounds the bones, pulling and kneading in a repetitive motion until you feel your partner relax.
England looked up from the beginner's guide that America had shoved in his face, exclaiming that he couldn't understand the book.
If England had not seen the title, he would have flipped upon reading the contents. He refused to believe that his col- acquaintance was growing up in more ways than one.
"Alfred." The other nation drifted back to England.
"Yeah?"
"This is a book on a massage. Not a self-help book of the variety that teaches you to relieve stress be meditating-"
"Oh! England, you silly! I wanted to know if there were stretches I could do. Japan gave me the book when he heard me tell Canada that I couldn't sleep form how bad my back hurts. Of course, that could be the drought that was plaguing me a while back."
England felt an eyebrow twitch. Given how big they were, it looked more like a spasm.
"Don't have an aneurism."
"…How long has this pain persisted?"
"Ah? Over a year. The pain just comes and goes, so I ignore it and plow on. Cause I'm a her-"
"YOU ARE A BLOODY GIT! TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF, NOW!"
America stared at England, and then stripped. When the older nation used that tone of voice, you obeyed, ex-colony or not.
At England's gesture, America laid face down, his bomber jacket cushioning his face from the Conference Room floor. He carefully set Texas to the side. England knelt beside him. He placed the book on the other side of America, where he could read the print and study the pictures.
"First, begin with a scrubbing motion to warm up the skin."
England proceeded to put his hands perpendicular to America's body, then briskly moved them back and forth, traversing the skin down to the small of the back, then up to the shoulders.
He read the blurb on the intro chapter as he repeated the motion five times. Apparently, the back was the best place to give a massage if one was short on time.
Well, they certainly had the whole day to themselves as England was only at the Conference Room as he had forgotten the paperwork from the earlier evening.
England moved onto the next step, where he crossed his arms and leaned forward, gently stretching America out. His right hand was on America's buttock, the left on his shoulder. England frowned when he could feel the disks unclenching beneath his hands.
"A-ah!" Startled, England asked if America was okay.
"Yeah…can you do that again, please?"
Well, well. Apparently a relaxed Alfred was a polite and docile Alfred. England felt an evil leer form inside of himself. The next time they fought, he could later offer a massage and have America as literal putty in his hands.
Of course, he would have to be careful. Push too hard with his newfound weapon; he could easily recreate the Revolutionary War.
England made sure to alternate the position of his hands every other stretch. America moaned lightly and his shoulders began to droop.
England, rather than let America sleep, probed him with questions about the meeting earlier today. He shifted around to the front, and frowned again.
"Do you have any oil?"
"Hm?"
"The next maneuver is a bit more complicated. Do you have any oil to ease the motion?"
"Hmmf…here."
England blinked. Then he grabbed the oil, applied some to his hands, and rubbed them.
"How do you feel about getting you buttocks done?"
"No thanks."
"You sure? Right here says that they can hold a lot of tension there."
"Pretty sure."
"Okay then." England shifted his position so that he sat before America's head, kneeling so that he could reach the entire back.
England put his hand on America's back on either side of the spine. He then traveled down the back, using his weight to keep the stroke slow and even. When he reached the lower back, he swept out and pulled his weight back, bringing his hands firmly up the sides.
"S-stop it, that tickles."
England corrected his position and continued to bring the hands back to the shoulder joints. When reaching the shoulders he turned his hands outside, pointing the elbows and wrists away from the spine.
He proceeded to stroke the hands over the top of the arm where the deltoid muscles where. He then brought his hands under the shoulder and scooped the trapezius muscles, ensuring to keep his fingers rigid. He pictured his fingers going into a well of black crust that was built up stress, and that his hands were capable of rinsing out the muck.
The image must have worked, because America whimpered and went limp.
England made certain that his hands were firm, and not rigid, before he glided up the neck, mindful of the throat and cervical spine (gee, wouldn't that have ended well) and to the base of America's hairline.
England repeated the stroke. Feeling America relax and knowing he was the cause….well, England could happily die in the next war. America craved his touch.
Well, no, not really. America trusted his touch for this short time. England nearly dug his nails into America's defenseless back when he realized that after the massage, they could easily go back to how they always were. Annoying each other and bickering like little kids.
England frowned. He was gratified that America's face was buried in the bomber jacket away from him. He was also glad that America was oblivious from the massage to think that he was working on a particularly nasty knot in his back, not dwelling on unpleasant thoughts.
Alfred certainly had a way of just knowing when someone was in pain. He just waited for them to come to him with their problems. Then he started getting nosy. England still blamed Japan for the change in behavior. Pearl Harbor….
The forceful strokes caused America to protest, a pained 'ergh!' escaping him. England lightened up, his brain returning to what had caused the forceful strokes. He wanted America to spend some time with him without thinking he was up to something, but how?
The earlier Conference jumped back into his mind.
Maybe he could get America to spend some time with him on a scientific team.
Yes, that would work. The nations were still looking into alternate energy sources instead of fossil fuels. He could form the first solar energy plant with America, now that the efficiency of solar powers had been solved some time ago.
America groaned under his touch.
America would be lying if he said England was doing a fine job. The older nation was doing a number on his muscles, and America suspected if he was a string instrument, he would have been crooning 'Stairway to Heaven' by now. Or the Beatles 'Mother Mary'. Whichever suited the moment better.
He would even spring for some Beethoven, but he doubted England wanted to stop right now. Even for something so menial as turning on the iPod.
Instead, America spent his time talking about what little progress they had managed to get down.
"F.D.R. Now there was a man who sat down and would not budge until the work was down. He certainly knew how to deploy his resources."
"Speaking of resources, what do you say to a team of scientists being alerted to a new job come Christmas time?"
"Mmm? What for?"
"Solar energy. We could possibly invent the first solar powered plant to provide alternate energy. All we would need is a system to switch back and forth for cloudy days."
"Hmmm. Sounds like I'd be using the plant more."
"Git." But the warm touch on his back didn't let up. In fact, the sweeping motion had been going on for the whole time they had been talking.
"You done yet?"
"Almost. I want to try another massage technique on you. And remember to drink plenty of water. You just had a deep relaxation of your muscles. It pretty much equates the same as a workout in terms of needing fluids."
"Okay."
England found himself positively whirling around in delight in his head. America sounded like a child! Like his….colonial self. All relaxed and ready to sleep after a good story.
England proceeded to saw the shoulders. He sat himself back on Alfred's side, noting how the massage technique he was about to do was great for those who sat at the desk for long periods of time.
He folded America's arm across America's back, supporting the elbow. He then used the v of his hand to saw under the shoulder blade. After a few, he switched to the other side.
"Oh…"
"You like that."
"Oh…oh…oh…"
The small noises America was making were really not helping. England glanced around to distract himself, and noticed an anecdote at the end of the page.
"Bloody hell. Hold on a minute, there's a follow-up technique mentioned."
America moaned under his ministrations.
"I don't care, just do it harder, I can barely feel you anymore."
"Eh? I thought you were supposed to lighten up as they relaxed."
"Well, don't. I don't care if that's true or not, just don't stop."
England flipped back a few pages, mindful of the oil on his hands.
"Ah, here it is. The rolling technique. Okay, it seems all I have to do is alternate my thumbs."
England proceeded to run his thumbs alternately. He lead with his left thumb, then followed with his right thumb, fanning his hand over the rest of the skin with closed fingers. When the left thumb had gone as far as he could roll the hand, he followed with his right thumb in the same spot. He brought his left thumb over the right thumb, ready to go as soon as the right thumb lifted up.
England moved his hands around, remembering to keep the pressure on.
"How do masseuses do this?" He panted. His back was killing him and his arms ached. He was only at this for a half-hour, and the pictures clearly showed that he had done everything right.
"Mm~m. You okay Arthur?"
England felt all his ailments fly out the window. Alfred had called him Arthur.
Oh, he had a devious weapon for spending time with America now.
He would definitely add massage instruments to his Christmas list under the embroidery book.
Sighing, he let up with a few more sweeps.
"Okay, how are you feeling?"
"Like I just walked into world peace."
He chuckled, and helped America up. "It's okay to be a little dazed. The first time is always one to remember."
"SACRE BLEU!"
England refrained from jumping as he had America leaning on him, and glared at France.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Looking at you." The words were oddly garbled, and England realized that France was ogling the shirtless America.
Feeling very close to snarling, England propped America on the table and fetched him Texas and the bomber jacket off the floor. France continued staring until he realized that America was giving him a rather cool look back.
"Ah- right. I was looking for you and heard noises….I thought Italy had cornered Germany in here again."
England and America both gave France cool looks. England's hand was twitching for a gun.
"Right~ I'll be on my way."
England gazed after France for a while, and then said "Perhaps I can slip some of my cooking into his food later."
America doubled over laughing.
France darted into the meeting room. "The other person wasn't Japan. It was our darling Amerique!"
"What!"
"It is true! Angleterre had him on the floor with his shirt off! Amerique is a rather fine catch, but dammit, Angleterre is so possessive, we'll never have a shot at Amerique!"
"And that is relevant how? Everyone will become one with me in the end." Russia deadpanned.
China recovered from his shock. "Did they take the bait?"
"Ve~ of course they did. After all, Germany can think up the best plans!"
Italy snuggled closer to Germany, as though trying to fuse their borders together.
"Well, who wants to bet on how long they stay together?"
"Until the earth burns into dust."
"Eyiii! Japan, warn us when you come into the room." France fell back, clutching his chest.
"Wait- England-san is snogging my brother?"
"Ahahahahahaha….Canada, let's not be rash…"
A dark aura seeped into the room. In the Conference Room down the hall, England sneezed into his oiled hands with the papers flying everywhere as a result.
"Oh, let me get those for you. I know this awesome café we can stop at and discuss the scientist idea some more if you want to grab dinner."
"I would love to, Alfred."
A dark aura to rival Canada flooded England. To have America back in his hands would be glorious. The superpower needed a strong leader, and he, England, could be the lucky one to…to…
Hold America's hand as he dragged England out to the café.
He could be better than some petty revenge. He could be America's significant other.
If America asks, the blush on his face is from fighting off the sneezes, drat it all.
~fin
First story in this fandom ever. Tell me how it is, I feel like there is something off and I can't put my hand on it.