Successful 'Invasion' (Hetalia)

Author: Ashynarr

Summary: It pays to not underestimate a Canadian, especially when you deliberately set out to piss him off.

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

Warning: Implied CanRus, Sort of implied AmeCan?, Puns!, Repost, First Posted July 8 2015

[Based on a KM prompt from... somewhere in there I guess? IDK but it was funny at the time so yeh.]

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It was a normal post-meeting night at the bar, with many of the usual contenders gathered to chat and relax outside the sphere of work they otherwise had to inhabit. The Germanics were in a corner booth taking bets on who would win between Erzsebet and Gilbert this time around, the Asians were huddled around their tablets in a separate booth discussing something, and Alfred (the only sober one there at this point) was set on keeping Arthur and Francis from getting into a drunken fight that would probably get them kicked out.

Which, as things would have it, left Ivan and Matthew as the only two at the bar, downing drinks more casually and basically comfortable with watching the rest of the place.

"A shame Alfred is keeping them under control…" Ivan muttered around his glass. "Would be entertaining to watch."

"I like not having to leave early to drive their drunk asses home, honestly," Matthew replied around his own drink, shaking his head. "It's not exactly our favorite chore, especially when they get touchy and weepy."

"So they do make advances like that?"

The Canadian made a face. "More like they won't stop trying to cuddle and lament about how we aren't cute little kids anymore. Generally they shut up after we shove them into a bed, and they're too hung over in the morning to get into full out fights until well after we've separated them."

"Hmm," The Slavic man tilted his head thoughtfully.

Matthew cut into before the question could even be asked. "No, as far as we know they aren't together, even though they act like it sometimes. And neither Al nor I are sleeping with them - they freaking raised us, I don't know where that rumor keeps coming from."

"Probably the same place all such rumors come from," Ivan offered.

"Probably," Matthew sullenly agreed, taking a larger swig of his drink before sighing.

The Russian hummed thoughtfully. "You are not seeing anyone, then?"

"Not at the moment, no. Why?"

"I was just thinking it might be nice to catch up, since it has been a while since we've spent time together."

The Canadian tilted his head in thought, then shrugged and downed the rest of his glass. "You know what? Why not."

Ivan smiled and finished his as well, the two paying for their drinks before wandering out together, much to the notice of several Nations who were already contemplating this turn of events.

"Ivan's gonna put him through the wringer," Gilbert shook his head, looking almost sympathetic.

A few of the others murmured agreements, knowing that even as Matthew could be terrifying in war and on the ice, he otherwise didn't tend to push matters too much, leaving little doubts as to what would be happening later.

Alfred, having also watched them leave out of the corner of his eye, merely raised an eyebrow at the smattering of commentary that reached him before he went back to deciding how much longer he was going to give these two before dragging them out of there.

(Considering they weren't even speaking in modern dialects anymore, he figured it wouldn't be long.)

~0~0~

By the following morning, most of the Nations had been updated through the grapevine of the potential tryst between the two northern Nations, many wondering at the state the poor Canadian would be in when he arrived. The assumptions ranged from mild bruising to the possibility of broken bones, and from there to even more wild assumptions.

Alfred, when pressed for his opinion, just shrugged and claimed it was none of his business.

Of course, conversations soon proved moot when the duo in question walked in five minutes before the meeting's start, Matthew practically bouncing as he made his way over to the seat next to his brother, while Ivan… well…

"Holy shit, he's limping," Feliks muttered in wide eyed awe, Toris unable to do much but nod in quiet agreement.

Ivan, for his part, merely gave them all a look all but daring them to ask questions, even as he fell back into his seat with more care than usual.

Alfred was the only one fully unphased by the surprise development, instead, giving his brother a fistbump to the shoulder after he sat down. "Seems like someone had a good time last night."

"What gave it away?" The Canadian replied lightly, grinning as well.

"Well, between the look on his face promising murder and you strolling in like you own the place, I might have gotten a hint of something being up."

"He did beg for it, you know." Matthew replied innocently.

"That sounds like a story I gotta hear." Alfred raised an eyebrow and sat back.

"Well, we were chatting in his room, getting ourselves into the mood, and I figured I'd let him do most of the work, you know? Since I had a long week and didn't feel like putting the effort into topping him."

"You mean our usual agreement?"

"Yeah, pretty much. He seemed into it, bossing me around a little while he had me strip for him. We made out a little, taking it slowly, which was definitely novel."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," Matthew grinned.

"Then I'm assuming something changed your mind?"

"Well, he might have implied that I was good little dog and asked whether I was naturally good at rolling over for people or if I had experience with it."

Alfred winced. "Seriously?"

"Then he had the gall to imply I couldn't top someone unless it was hockey season or the middle of a war." Matthew snorted in amusement. "Of course, I couldn't just take that lying down."

His brother snorted. "So you decided to be a pain in the ass instead?"

"Hey, he's the one who tried to get a rise out of me, he had it coming."

"All over you, I imagine."

They both laughed, cheerfully ignoring the heavy glare being sent their way from across the table.

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AN: I have no idea what this is, only that it's hilarious and involves Matthew being a little shit. Of course, this is a natural state of being for him, but him actually indulging is rather rare when not directed at Alfred.