Hello again! This is the second story I was asked to publish, and its slightly more weird... That being said, Yasuo is what my friend and I call Allen, aka 2P!America. Hope you enjoy this! There are also some more suggestive themes in this story, so read at your own risk... I don't own any of the Hetalia characters, all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Allen's mouth twisted up into a sadistic smile as he tossed his favorite bat riddled with nails to one corner of the dark room. The TV screen was still flashing as commercials played, but Allen ignored it. He stared down and admired the pool of fresh, scarlet blood by his feet. He nudged the body on the floor with one of his boot-clad feet and chuckled under his breath when the body did not respond. Allen crouched down and rolled the body over, noting the blood soaked dusty blonde hair, cracked glasses, and closed eyes that hid a pair of brilliant blue irises.
Alfred, or 'America' as the other supposed nations referred to him as, had been a surprisingly disappointing opponent. Allen had travelled all the way from his own home universe just to fight his particular counterpart, but he was met with an idiotic, gullible fool who had no idea how to use his own strength. It almost took all the fun of beating the crap out of him with Allen's favorite baseball bat.
"Pathetic," Allen muttered disdainfully as he lifted the unresponsive body up with ease.
He ungracefully tossed Alfred to the wall, where the body landed with a loud thump. Then, Allen proceeded to stretch out on Alfred's couch and stare boredly at the TV screen. The alternate universe was just as boring as his home one... What a shame...
"Matthew, please slow down, si vous plait," France begged the determined Canadian to slow down as he stormed down the sidewalk.
Canada, or Matthew as human name would dictate, chose to ignore the Frenchman and continue storming down the street.
"Matthew, calm down!" France begged again, managing to catch up and grab the Canadian by the wrist.
Matthew stopped, turned around, and glared at France as if he was going to murder him. France felt a sense of dread in his stomach. Matthew hardly ever got this worked up.
"Let go, Francis! I'm going to give my idiot brother a piece of my mind!"
Francis did let go, only to have Matthew charge off again. Sighing to himself, Francis tried to keep up, pitying Alfred for the impending doom that was to befall him.
"Matthew, we can all agree Alfred is an idiot, but can you talk to him later?" Francis begged halfheartedly.
Matthew glared at him and raised an eyebrow.
"We were occupied when he called, no? We did not get to finish what we started," Francis pouted slightly and folded his arms.
Matthew rolled his eyes, "That idiot calls and pretends to be panicking over some clone. I am SICK of his prank calls, Francis! I don't care if he is my brother, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!"
Francis sighed, realizing any attempt to calm Matthew down was hopeless.
"Very well, but don't take long mon cher," Francis huffed.
Matthew did not reply, and when they arrived at Alfred's home Matthew already had his spare keys to the home in his hands.
The house was dark except for the front window, where Matthew and Francis could see a flashing light from the TV in the living room. When Matthew saw the light, his scowl deepened.
"That IDIOT, sitting on his lazy ass watching TV and bothering everyone else," Matthew hissed angrily.
Francis gave up trying to pacify the angry Canadian and opted to wait outside while Matthew gave Alfred a piece of his mind (if he could keep his courage long enough to, that is).
Matthew unlocked the front door and stormed into the living room where the TV was on. He hardly bothered to look around, as he was hellbent on glaring at the idiot sprawled out on the couch.
"ALFRED!" Matthew screeched furiously, determined to finally have his ignorant brother listen to what he had to say.
The person on the couch didnt respond. This enraged Matthew even more, and he clenched his fists.
"Don't you DARE ignore me this time, Alfred, I swear I'm not dealing with this right now!"
Finally, the person on the couch stirred. He sat up and slowly turned his head to look at Matthew. He stood up and walked slowly away from the TV, and when Matthew made eye contact he realized something. This person wasn't Alfred.
They looked almost exactly alike. The only differences were that this person's hair was darker than Alfred's, and he had horrible red eyes instead of his normal, shining blue ones. His clothes, from his similar bomber jacket to blue jeans, were stained with blood, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. Any courage Matthew had immediately left him and he felt himself go weak at the knees.
"Who-who are you?" Matthew squeaked out the question in hardly more than a whisper.
The other person grinned wickedly and eyed Matthew up and down like a piece of meat.
"So you're the Matthew this idiot tried to call," The mysterious man said aloud, nodding with his head to one far side of the room.
Matthew took his eyes off the sinister man to finally look around the room, and what he saw made him squeak again in fear. The floor was soaked in blood, and a horrible, bloody bat sat in one corner. At the far end of the room, Matthew noticed the limp body of his brother, Alfred, drenched in blood and glasses shattered.
"Alfred!" Matthew felt like he wanted to be sick.
Before Matthew could do anything else, the mysterious man appeared in front of him with a demonic smile. Matthew felt fear grip his heart at the same time as the stranger grabbed him by the arms and literally threw him onto the couch. Matthew flailed around in a desperate attempt to get up and run, but the stranger pinned him down using his knees and leaned over him, trapping him. Matthew looked up into the red eyes staring at him and imagined Alfred trying and failing to fight this guy off. Alfred may be an idiot, but he was strong, and if he couldnt hold this guy off what chance did Matthew have?
"Pleased to meet you, Matthew, I'm Allen," The stranger finally introduced himself with a sadistic little smile.
Allen leaned down and pinned Matthew down by the wrists. Matthew shrunk back as he felt Allen's warm breath against his face and tried to disappear into the couch.
"You seem a lot nicer than Alfred," Allen mumbled, "Much nicer."
Matthew gulped and tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Instead, he opened and closed it like a helpless fish. Allen frowned.
"That's not very cute," Allen noted. He let go of one of Matthew's wrists for a moment and pulled a piece of cloth out from one of his pockets. He then proceeded to stuff it uncerimomiously in Matthew's mouth, making Matthew gag. Allen leaned back in and ran a hand through Matthew's hair. When he reached Matthew's curl, his eyes lit up with interest and he gave the curl an experimental tug. Matthew gasped around the gag and his eyes widened. Allen noted the peculiar reaction and tugged on the curl again. Matthew started to squrim in discomfort and his heart rate picked up. His face flushed red and he tried to look anywhere but at Allen, though the sight of Alfred's bloody body wasn't much better.
"Interesting," Allen hummed to himself and let go of Matthew's curl.
Allen then removed the gag from Matthew's mouth and threw it to the floor lazily. Before Matthew could say anything, though, Allen leaned down and kissed him. Matthew tried to flinch back and escape, but his position was rather helpless. Allen noticed Matthew's reaction, however, and frowned around the kiss.
"You need to be sweeter," Allen muttered darkly.
Matthew felt a hand make its way into the back pocket of his jeans and pull out his emergency bottle of maple syrup. Allen managed to pull off Matthew's shirt and then observed the bottle with a small smile and unscrewed the cap.
"Perfect," He hummed and began to pour the maple syrup all over Matthew.
Matthew recoiled in horror as his precious maple syrup was going to waste. He felt the thick, sticky fluid slide down his face and cringed as it covered his chest. When Allen was done and the bottle was empty, he threw it to the side and leaned in to lick Matthew's neck. Matthew winced.
Allen noticed Matthew's reaction and frowned, "Why are you all so pathetic?"
Matthew had no idea what he was talking about, but the statement pissed him off. He glared at Allen, and as Allen went to lick his syrup-covered cheek, Matthew stretched forward and bit Allen's ear. Allen jumped slightly and recoiled back to stare at Matthew. Matthew just glared at him defiantly, and Allen's confusion quickly turned into a look of pure glee.
"Impressive, Matthew, impressive," Allen praised him, "show me more."
Francis was sitting out on the front lawn waiting for Matthew to finish yelling at Alfred and was surprised he hadn't heard any shouting yet. Maybe Matthew really had lost his nerves. Francis was just about to get up and go check when he heard a hiss from somewhere to his left. He jumped slightly and looked quickly over his shoulder to see a white and ginger cat glaring at him with glowing, lamplike green eyes, teeth bared.
"Bonsoir," Francis smiled at the cat and extended a hand, "what a beautiful cat you are."
The cat eyed him warily and walked forward to sniff his fingers. It seemed displeased by something and immediately tried to bite him. Francis nimbly withdrew his hand and tutted at the cat.
"I suppose you're Alfred's cat, Biscuit? You have just as poor manners as Anglettere," Francis chuckled.
The cat pricked its ears and approached Francis again. It nudged his arm and meowed loudly. Francis stroked the soft fur of Biscuit absentmindedly and sighed.
"You're much better company than England, though," Francis evaluated.
The cat shot another glare at him as if it took Francis's comment as a personal insult.
"I suppose I can wait for Matthew a bit longer," Francis mumbled.
The cat continued to rub its head against Francis's arm, and Francis was starting to warm up to the cute cat. He was just about to tell it so when he smelled something odd. It was a sweet smell that wafted from inside the house. Francis paused to consider the scent until he identified it as maple syrup. Not only that, but it was Matthew's emergency maple syrup. Why on earth was his maple syrup out? They only used that on two conditions: Matthew was displeased with the maple syrup provided at a restaurant or he was feeling especially kinky. Considering it was unlikely Matthew and Alfred were eating pancakes at this time a night, Francis felt a wave of outrage and jealousy wash over him. What did Matthew think he was doing? And with ALFRED no less! Francis stood up, shooed the cat away, and steeled himself to walk in and break up whatever was going on inside that house. He slammed the door open and stormed into the house, ready to deliver an eloquent speech about the pain of betrayal.
Francis reached the living room in time to hear a low pitched chuckle from the couch. He paused in the doorway to see a shape with hair that looked a lot like Alfred's pinning someone drenched in maple syrup who Francis assumed to be Matthew down on the couch. To Francis's horror, Matthew was biting Alfred and grinning while he did so.
"MATTHEW!" Francis cried in horror.
The two figures on the couch stopped and Francis heard Matthew squeak in fear. Alfred, however, merely got off the couch and looked over to where Francis was standing in shock and disbelief.
"You sure look a lot like Francois," Alfred noted dully.
"Alfred, what are you talking about? What are you doing?!" Francis cried dramatically.
At this, Alfred frowned and went to one corner of the room, where a particularly horrible, bloody bat sat. He picked it up and held it in his hands as if it was very precious to him.
"Alfred?" Francis was beginning to feel uneasy.
"The name's Allen," the person said, "not Alfred."
"Francis!" Matthew gasped and finally managed to sit up on the couch. Francis blinked when he saw Matthew's immaculate chest bare and covered in syrup.
"Run!"
Francis was confused, until he saw what was behind the couch on the far side of the room. It was Alfred, except he didn't look like he was in good condition. Francis looked back to Allen, but before he knew it a pair of bright red eyes were right in front of him and something sharp and extremely painful hit him in the side and sent him flying to the ground.
"You people are all rather annoying," Allen muttered boredly and hit Francis again with his bat.
Matthew watched, paralyzed with fear, as Allen ruthlessly beat Francis with the bat until Francis collapsed, unconscious, to the ground, also covered in blood. Allen just tossed his bat to the side and smiled.
"Ah, I love the sight of blood," Allen purred.
Matthew just stared as Allen turned his attention back to him. He also saw Alfred's cat, Biscuit, creep into the room. Biscuit cautiously approached Francis and nudged his unmoving hand. When that didn't work, Biscuit began to lick at the blood on Francis's face. Matthew was both sickened and surprised.
"Now," Allen clapped his hands together, "I believe we were in the middle of something."