Hello! 'Tis Queen Cyanide with...
Part 2 of the Revolutionary Series xD The last one~
Fem!AmericaxEngland lies ahead...
Disclaimer: Technically, this belongs to Misuki... I gave her the rights as her bonus present ;)
"Amelia, I forbid you to do this!"
"You have no right to stop me. The decision was made long ago, by God. We are to be free of your tyrannical oppression."
"This means war, America. I don't think you are ready for that. Without me, you're incapable and insufficient."
"Without you, Arthur, I am free."
"I'm sorry!" Amelia cried loudly. She jerked upward in her bed, accidently hitting her head on someone who'd been standing above her.
"Bloody hell," that someone murmured.
Holding her throbbing forehead, she looked up with a tiny groan. "Stupid England! What do you want? Why are you in my awesome house? Why're you looking at me like that? And why are you inside my amazing room! Get out!"
"Calm down, you git. Besides, why would I ever want to engage in any type of immoral activity with the likes of you?" he said, with a disgusted face. His eyes were slightly darker than usual, but she had no idea why.
"Whatever, as the breath – taking heroine that I am, I can't think of a single person who wouldn't mind giving me a good banging." Her comment earned her a raised thick eyebrow, but she continued on, not allowing him room to speak. "So stop avoiding what I asked. Seriously, now my questions. And stop staring at me, damnit!" She pulled her sheets up to cover her over – exposed body, making a warning sound as he turned to leave.
"I can't believe they sent me to come deal with this woman," he said under his breath before spinning back to face the American. "You didn't come to the meeting. You were supposed to call in advance and tell someone you were going to be a fat, lazy ass that wants to sleep in until the day is practically over. And I was certainly not avoiding your inquiries. Bloody idiot, you must give me time to answer them."
"Well… Screw you! And I – I did call! I left t – the message with –"
"If you're going to lie to me like that, at least make it more believable. If it's not ridiculous enough that you're making up tall tales without even knowing what you're going on about. "
"You jackass! Just leave already! I know exactly what meeting you –" She paused as her eyes swung to the calendar, where the date was circled with a neon yellow marker, sporting the words HEROIC MEETING TODAY.
Oh. That meeting.
"I'm sure you do. Now get dressed. We've been waiting for you. Due to a bloody, rigged game of paper, rock, scissors, I was chosen to escort you back."
"And if I don't want to go with you?" she snapped, crossing her arms under the blanket.
She was seriously shaken from that odd dream. It had been an incredibly long time since her subconscience had pulled up the American Revolution. She hadn't been prepared for that low blow. In all honesty, she didn't think she'd be able to ride with England and not burst into tears like a four year old.
Besides, she usually didn't mind being with him. Often times, Amelia looked forward to their little skirmishes. They made her comfortable, in a way. She couldn't handle him today.
She just couldn't.
"What made you think I wanted to bring you back with me in the first place?" he sighed, leaning against the wall at the foot of her bed. He shook his head at her huddled from, frowning slightly.
"You – You… Ugh! Whatever, just get out so I can change," she muttered, throwing whatever intelligence she possessed to the wind as she stood, leaving her warm bed behind. He could stare all he wanted; she had a badass body and wasn't going to be all self-conscious around him anymore. She was passed that stage, even if it only took a matter of a few minutes. "If you're not leaving, then I am honestly going to change in your face!" she tested, butting gazes with him. She prayed desperately that he'd leave because she seriously didn't want to take her clothes off before him.
"Mm, I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon," he admitted, pulling a chair out of her desk. He promptly lowered himself into it, crossing his legs and looking at her with a level expression, frown still present.
"Stop that!" she snapped, flinging a hand in his general direction. She lied about not being self – conscious, so what?
"Stop what?" he drawled back lazily, eyes roving down her body appreciatively.
"That! Stop looking at me; go away already." When he simply ignored her requests, she threw off her tank top, and rapidly tossed it over her shoulder. Her cheeks were aflame, but she wasn't about to let that fact change how she acted. The discarded top expertly landed on the guy, which caused him to splutter incoherently.
"You pig. You graceless pig."
"You're the pig. You're the one watching me undress, not the other way around," she retorted, putting on a light blue tank top in exchange for the white one she'd slept in. Over that, she threw on her favorite bomber jacket, giving a contented sigh as the familiar material settled on her body.
She kept her mid – thigh dark denim shorts on. In her exhaustion last night, she barely even had time to take off her shoes before she was out like a light.
"Was there anything you guys said before you noticed I was gone?" She plopped back onto her bed, still warm from all the body heat it'd collected over the night. Once her preferred pair of combat boots was on, she turned, giving England a false smile. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm going to go ahead and brush my teeth now, a simple FYI."
Finally, finally! Her blush had disappeared.
"We didn't say anything. Your so – called heroic presence is very hard to ignore. Even Greece noticed."
Amelia's eyes widened slightly as the damned blush once again crept up her neck. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat and fidgeted slightly. Eventually, with her heavy soled boots, she entered her restroom, shutting the door on the brainless country. And so she did as she'd said, placing one of her hands on the bathroom sink with a heavy sigh. Dealing with that prick had drained much out of her.
She was so tired of pretending before him.
Was it so much to ask that she be honest with him, without being judged?
Perhaps it was.
Her timer beeped then, signaling her two minutes of brushing was up. She spit out and rinsed her mouth, making a face at how minty – fresh she felt.
Another day had already begun without her permission. As she rested against the sink with her forehead on the mirror, she poked her cheeks to make them seem less melancholy, less pale. Mornings were always the hardest part of her day. It was the time when she had to reign in all the sadness she felt dwelling deep inside and leave it behind to switch it out with her usual self.
Many times, it wasn't exactly a faux cheer. Eventually, she would realize later on in the day that the grass was always so much greener on this side of the field. It was something she'd had to do. After so many tense years of being oppressed, she knew she couldn't go on living with him.
No matter how much she was in love with the idiot.
They'd been together for so long before and after the split. She knew how to perfectly push his buttons or perfectly manipulate her green - eyed… Her green – eyed what? Besides, when had he ever been hers?
"America, hurry up! You have five more minutes. Starting now," he called, probably still in her chair.
She was so exhausted from pretending before him.
And then there was the dream of how she'd announced to Arthur that she was going to be free of him, no matter what the cost.
In what way was she supposed to be able to keep on functioning properly like this? Her past was just… Sad, but filled with the sense of self, patriotic pride.
She often found herself wondering if he felt as forlornly about the turn of events, as she did.
Highly doubtful of this feat, she still speculated.
"One more minute left!"
She said nothing in response. Looking up at her eyes, watching as they reflected the damage of years filled with pent –up guilt, her shoulders sagged with what felt like the weight of the world. How long would it be before she crumbled?
"Arthur, where did we go wrong?" she whispered, shutting her eyelids, slamming the windows to her soul shut.
"America! You seem to have become all grown up. What a shame to not have been able to see you change and transform into the proper lady that you are now. How long has it been since we've seen each other last?"
"E – England? What're you doing here? I thought you'd forgotten about me."
"Not in the slightest; you are my most profitable colony, after all."
"Oh. So to you, I am just a colony used to make money?"
"Something like that. Come, now. We must get you into a splendid dress, so we may go to a social ball of some sort and dance to our heart's contents. It has been a considerable amount of time since we've had a waltz or two together, right? I reckon your dancing skills have gotten better since last time as well, yes?"
"Yeah… Something like that…"
"- Melia! Are you alright, America? Wake up," England snapped, roughly jostling her shoulder. "Amelia, what's wrong?"
She shoved his hands away, shaking her head with a groan. "I think something's wrong with me." The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted saying them.
"What do you mean? Talk to me, Amelia! I can't help you if you don't tell me anything." She'd never heard him so panicked before.
"Fainting spells, maybe. I'm sure if I eat some hotdogs, I'll be alright," she expertly fibbed, distantly wondering why he kept saying her name in his sentences.
She attempted to get up, making a surprised sound as she fell back down onto her behind. Her legs were unable to support her, then.
What is going on with me? Why the flashback to my Colonial times? she thought, looking up at the worried Arthur with a fake bright smile.
"Ugh, that's so not heroine like… I think I didn't eat right yesterday, so my body is weak. Oh, don't give me that look. I'm alright, I'm alright. Pinky promise!" she lied/assured him, holding up her pinky finger to wrap around his own in the greatest of solemn oaths. He intertwined his hesitantly, and she marveled at how big the difference was in the size of their hands.
She made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. They stayed like that, breathing each other's air and clamped pinkies. The intensity of his stare was slowly becoming too much. Her eyeballs lowered, somehow finding his shoes utterly fascinating.
"A – Arthur," she started.
"You know, I don't think you're well enough to go to the meeting. I'll just stay here with you and –"
"Why don't you call Puerto Rico to help me, please? I don't want to keep you from going. There's that look again; stop it. Just trust me, alright? She'll fix some fantastic food, and I'll be over in maybe half an hour, yeah? Heroine's usually are unfashionably late, too! It'll work in favor of my badass image."
He still hadn't let go of her pinky; she was beginning to turn a nice scarlet.
"But, I don't –"
"Please, Arthur," she cut in, sparing him a quick glance. When their eyes met again, he dropped her pinky like she contained leprosy or something.
"I – Fine," he relented, patting her head with lightning speed and an awkward throat clearing.
She felt her blush skyrocket, clinging relentlessly to her skin. After dusting off his knees, he stood up, posture straight and true.
"I shall see you later then," he said gruffly.
"Yeah, yeah. Get going already!"
With a nod, he strolled out of the bathroom, then her room, and (supposedly) down the hall.
Amelia swallowed with difficulty, trying to calm her galloping heart rate. Why was he being so nice and compliant with her? Thinking of all the different motives he could be housing within his mind, she shivered.
"Puerto Rico?" she called, crawling with her arms in order to enter her room. The only response was some type of pot hitting the floor with a cringe worth ker – plang!
She hurriedly shimmied over to the wheelchair at the corner of the room- she knew it would one day be used for more than speeding down hallways yelling "I'm flying like a heroine! Yaaaaaaay!" – and pulled herself into it, obviously already being well acquainted on how to use the moving chair.
Arms sluggish with the lack of food she'd pushed onto herself for the past few days, the chair began to jostle forward, at a slow, steady rate. She found herself at the kitchen door.
She wanted to call out again as something, now sounded like a chair, was being thrown into a wall, but decided to be sneaky and just appear out of the blue.
Quiet as a mouse, she pushed open the beige door that was the only thing separating her from the noises. First thing she noticed was two identical skillet, seemingly tossed to the floor. Why would that be…?
A soft gasp immediately caught her attention. Her eyes traveled across the floor, stopping at two pairs of feet. One belonging to Puerto Rico and –
"Ho. Ly. Shit," Amelia breathed, eyes wider than saucers. How – How – Puerto Rico knew how the rambunctious American felt for him, yet Estrella – The territory –
How could her house mate do this?
"Oh my – This is so not a heroic reaction." America placed her hand on her stomach, feeling lightheaded.
How could England be kissing Puerto Rico?
She wasn't exactly sure if he was kissing back; it was impossible to tell. However, she did see that their lips were locked, Arthur's hands placed on Estrella's shoulders. The dark – skinned woman had her hands on his forearms, neither pulling him near nor pushing him away.
She pushed the chair away from the sight in a sort of disgust.
At herself.
At England.
At Puerto Rico.
At the unfairness of life and all things in it.
She leapt out of the wheelchair, despite how fatigued she was, and began to run out of the house trying not to make too much noise. She cringed when she heard the wheelchair hit the wall, but slammed open the front door. She passed many governors, senators, judges, people that maintained the home, and several others.
She began shaking her head at the stupidity she contained as the racket from her endeavor to escape echoed extremely loud, earning stern glares from the surrounding humans.
Would the lip locking pair even come chasing after her?
She seriously hoped not.
She wouldn't be able to stand watching their guilty faces, peering at her with a sort of sadness because she'd been too stupid to notice they'd been going on behind her back for a nice, unknown amount of time.
Amelia came to a halt, the air painfully sawing in and out of her lungs. "I – I'll go to visit dear, little Matthew," she said to nobody, placing her hands on her knees in an attempt to breathe with more ease. "He probably slept in too, and nobody noticed the poor Canadian."
The thought of the shy, practically invisible Canadian made her smile around all her panting.
She was definitely going to see him. He would find a way to cheer her up. He was always so welcoming, too! With-
"Do not back down! They may be the best military in the world, but not for long!"
"That type of arrogance will be your demise, America. You may be holding your own, but it is only a matter of time. This war is a ticking time bomb; when all the seconds wind down, there will be nothing left. Besides me, of course. And you as my captive!"
"You dare to say I am the arrogant one? I shall prove you wrong. Watch as I turn back the time on the bomb. Watch as you are humiliated to the core. Watch as I overpower you."
"You bloody liar-"
"Please, enlighten me. What is the reason that you open fire on me?"
"I-"
"You do this for a king. I do this to survive; I struggle against you so as to live, sustained, not by the hunger – lusting country known as England, but by the working of my own people. My own hands."
"I am not power hungry."
"You reek of guilt and untruth."
"Amelia, I will get you back under me. If it's the last thing I do."
"And I, Arthur, shall be an unrestrained and liberated country. Even if it also happens to be the last thing I do, as well."
America came to, frowning as she realized she'd collapsed onto the surrounding greenery. What the crap? Another flashback? she thought. With a shake to clear her head, she felt there were more pressing issues to deal with. "Did I magically appear near Canada's estate?" she hopefully wondered aloud.
Absolutely not.
"Damnit."
She stood, brushing off dirt from her shorts. With a face at all the lingering particles on her fingers, she began the trek to Matt's house.
Yet again.
The trail was much more difficult than she remembered. When had she fallen so many times on this path?
She wobbled horribly to her left, grimacing. "What the- What is going on? As the awesome heroine that I am, this shouldn't be happening," she groaned as the world tilted violently, placing her hand on a tree to steady herself.
"Oh, freaking hell. Not another time. Ple-"
And she plunged forward.
"I-I won't cry."
"Oh? Have we reached the end, Amelia? When are you going to realize your attempts are futile and come back to me like an obedient and lost puppy, little one?"
"Be quiet! Admit your defeat, already! And I am not little!"
"Bloody hell! There is no way I would submit to you, you fool."
"This will be the last ba-attle."
"Aw, poor tiny America. So weak. You should know that you don't have the luxury of weeping during a war. You don't have the time."
"Shut up! Shut up, shut up! I do not want to hear that from the likes of you. Forget it. I'm finished with such irrelevant banter."
"Then the Earth was shaken by the deafening boom, signaling the start of the last battle he and I would engage in. During the Revolutionary War, anyways. There was the War of 1812," the American mumbled to herself. "Agh, this is ridiculous; why are these memories plaguing me? They need to leave me alone."
She pulled herself up, and leaned against the tree, not paying attention to anything going on around her. She began to tick off the possible reasons on her fingers, frowning as she disproved all of them.
The Fourth of July was still a few months away. Even then, she never had these recollections being thrown at her from some deep, dark corners of her mind.
By this time, most history teachers were focusing on the Civil War, or the Era of Good Feelings. So that wasn't it.
National History Day was a few months away. All the country's best projects on America's fight for independence couldn't be the cause.
Then what was doing this to her?
"England. That is enough. Drop your weapon."
"I refuse. Now get your rifle out of my face before I stab you."
"You wouldn't dare. I'd be able to blow your head off before you landed a hit. And I thought you should know I'm… I… I am so very sorry things happened in such an erratic way. I hope… In the future you can forgive me."
"Stop your blubbering! It looks quite hideous, especially on you. For heaven's sake, don't blow your snot everywhere."
"I am not! Besides, you can't even tell if I'm crying or not! It's raining, stupid. Furthermore, you are crying too, right?"
"It's very degrading for a man to cry. In this situation, there seems to be no reason to cry, anyways."
"Enough already! It is time you grant me my freedom."
"I will not-"
"Give it to me, or I will blow your head off! Americans are not to be taken lightly, as you should know by now."
"You- I hate you."
"Announce. My. Freedom. Now!"
"I- I hereby recognize the United States of America as a free country, with its own laws and governmental structure, where I am not her mother country."
"And?"
"And what, you wanker?"
"My land?"
"You may take nearly all the land I own in the New World."
"Now I can double in size, then. Thank you, Arthur. This does not change how much I love you. My confession from my Colonial time still stands."
"I do not love you, Amelia. Never have, and I never will. Remember that. All hopes of being civil towards one another should be quenched at this present moment."
"Then… Is this a sort of goodbye?"
"You could say."
"Then… Then…"
"Goodbye. The Independent United States of America."
Amelia lifted her hand to her eyes, not too surprised to find that there was moisture making a never-ending tail on her cheeks.
For that, she was angry at herself.
She had been drowning in depression, angst, and all that crap for too long. These memories coming back had lifted the metaphorical fog.
This was it. The end. She was letting go of all those feelings she'd been harboring. They did nothing but bring her down. She'd be in high spirits without the damn jerk face.
And she'd be forgiving, accepting of Puerto Rico and his… affair.
If they were happy, then Amelia was going to be über, super happy.
Even if she was still in love with Arthur.
She could live without being loved back.
She had been for hundreds of years now.
"A – Arthur?"
"Yes, America?"
"I have to tell you something. Something private."
"Well, we seem to be alone. I can't see anyone else around. Go on."
"I – I love you. Very, very much. And I believe I have, for quite some time."
"Blimey! B – But… You are my colony. You can't bloody love me!"
"I do, though. Arthur, I really love you. I don't expect you to return my feelings, however. I know better than to hope that."
"Your assumption is correct. I harbor no such feelings for you."
"I thought as much. Good day, then. I shall see you at the ball, later."
"Wait! Amelia, come back! All that talk was simply falsehood. I… I do love you."
The American laughed as she remembered hearing England say that. During that moment, she had no idea how to respond, so she ended up pretending that she hadn't heard him speak. He, in turn, acted as if he'd never said anything.
Those were the days.
Still slightly giggling, she placed a hand against the tree trunk, pushing herself off the ground. Now, all she had to do was go see Mattie, wind down a bit, then face the whole freaking world like the badass heroine she is.
Before she could take a step, the sound of a twig snapping in half held her frozen in place, eyes wide with expectancy. Shock and slight alarm began to settle in the pit of her stomach.
Who the hell-?
"Now, now. No need to be frisky, Puerto Rico. We need to find America first. Wouldn't you agree?" said a certain Britishman. Then he murmured something, too soft for Amelia to distinguish.
"Oh. My. Goodness. I – I have to hide," America muttered, frantically beginning to search for a hiding place.
Sure, Amelia had vowed to forever be an over – joyous person and forgive the pair, but she needed a few moments away, to herself, even with Canadia, to accept that Puerto Rico and England were, in a sense, together. And, to be honest, she didn't know why she was freaking out.
So what if they saw her?
So what if she saw them?
Regardless, she was panicking in a very unhealthy, unattractive fashion.
She shoved herself against the tree's rough bark. She began breathing in quick, silent-ish pants, hoping they wouldn't notice. The leaves above her began to rustle. As they moved in the wind, the sun peeked out every so often, blinding her at random intervals. A butterfly lazily floated by.
The interchanging colors of blue and green reminded her of the UK and herself, regrettably. The insect began to grow larger and larger and larger. The gentle feelings of its legs on her nose was almost too much to handle; the ticklish feeling the winged creature induced was awful and strong.
But her utter awe of seeing the beautiful insect up close outweighed her need to laugh. Each scale shimmered in its own unique way. The black beady eyes paying her no mind held a certain depth she'd never seen. The fragility of the thing made her wonder how the wings didn't break with strong winds.
Her amazement at the animal was short lived. The butterfly was startled when a British voice cried, "You go that way. I will go this way. Call out to me if you find the bloody country."
"What if she doesn't want to see you when I find her?"
Not if, but when. Puerto Rico was pretty overconfident. Didn't she realize the American country was stealthy when she wanted to be?
"Then she is screwed. She. Is. Bloody. Screwed."
Amelia felt her spine go rigid, as Arthur's words sunk in, weighing her down with horror. What would he do to her? Why was he so upset? What had she done? Was it because-
She began to hyperventilate, still trying to keep it quiet. She was making herself freak out even more with trying to find reasons, but she couldn't help it.
England had sounded so mad. And serious. And dangerous. Really, really, really dangerous.
"Oh. Boy," she whispered, shuddering. It wasn't all out of fear, though. Possibly excitement of some sort?
She tried to think of all the plausible routes to take away. She couldn't sneak away. She realized with a small groan. Any step she took would snap the surrounding dead branches.
"I am screwed. I am screwed. I am screwed. I am so screwed. I am so, so screwed…" And on and on she repeated this statement, occasionally adding a few so-s.
"Amelia, are you aware of the fact that I have ears?"
She started to tremble as hot breath washed down the side of her face and neck. She was in deep shit now.
"Tell me, doll. What made you run out of your house as if the devil himself was chasing you?"
She dared not look back to see Arthur's face. She tried to imagine it, but she found that she was unable to. "B-Because he kind of is."
He chuckled, placing a warm, large hand on her waist, spinning her around to face him. She, in turn, refused to meet his eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"Mhm. His name starts with an 'Ar' and ends with an 'Thur'," she proclaimed sagely, nodding.
"Really now?"
"Drop the crap. Why were you kissing Puerto Rico?" she demanded. After the words tumbled out, she slapped a hand over her mouth, cursing her stupid, girly, possessive, insistent mind to the depths of hell.
"Excuse me?"
With this, Amelia glanced up. The male country held a smug sort of smirk on his face, both caterpillar eyebrows raised in false innocence.
"Oh, you bastard. I know you heard me. So you better answer me." Her hands balled up to make dangerous fists, ready to bruise and bloody.
"Would you mind repeating the question, my little monster that's green with jealousy?"
"I am not! Do you even know what the freaking hell you're talking about? Heroine's don't get envious, especially when the one they love is messing around with someone else!" Here, those deadly fists pounded into his chest. She glared at him, but he didn't even bat an eyelash.
"Love, huh? If you don't cease hitting me, I'll be forced to take certain… actions against you. My time as a pirate has made me quite the scary person to mess with. Lassie," he teased, wrapping his own hands around her wrists. With ease, he held her to him, despite the profanities, kicks, punches, and all other sorts of hurtful things she tried to do.
Note the word try.
"Just because you used to be a pirate doesn't mean anything," she panted, still struggling in vain against him.
"Judging on who has the upper hand in the current situation…" Arthur trailed off, slamming her against the tree with this certain wicked smile.
"G-get away from me!" Her cheeks flooded with heat as he moved to position on of his legs between hers. His free limb was placed on the outside of her right leg, trapping her and efficiently alighting this weird type of passion within her.
She wasn't about to give into her body, though. She was better than that. She bucked her hips, trying to get some type of leverage over him. Other than a strangled gasp and… A certain part of her favorite country's body reacting, she received nothing else to show she'd gained at least a small amount of control on the situation.
"Don't do that again, love," he growled into her ear as she began to wriggle in his grasp. He shoved her hands above her head, clamping both with only one of his own.
With his now free hand, he traced a zigzag pattern down her arm, the side of her body, to where her leg met his, a little bit higher than mid-thigh.
"If you don't stop, I'll do that all over again," she retorted, slightly lifting her midsection in warning. Her voice sounded more hoarse than usual. Then again, so did England's.
He leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. She gave a slight hiss at how nice that felt. "Stop trying to distract me. With what intentions did you kiss Puerto Rico? And why are you doing this to me?"
"Mm," he hummed against her jaw, climbing his way to the side of her mouth.
"Answer the questions." She gritted her teeth as he moved to the other side of her neck, slightly licking the dip above her collar bone. "A-Answer me, damnit."
"Fine," he mumbled as he trailed his lips lightly back and forth over her. He whispered the answer against her skin, causing large tremors to sweep through her body periodically.
"She said I loved you. I threw a pan. She kept insisting that I did, so I kissed her to prove I didn't, and she ended up dropping her own pan. Then the front door slammed against the side of the building. Apparently, my 'weak, exhausted' heroine had run away, like Cerberus was chasing after her."
"B-But-"
"As we chased after my America, I came to realize that maybe I do have feelings for her."
"Still?" Amelia moaned aloud, wriggling against him as he suddenly bit her. It was like he'd known where her sweet spot was.
"Ah, yes. Still," he affirmed, licking the spot he'd just chomped on.
"Y-You know m-my confession still sta-ands," she stuttered as he kept on biting and licking her like she was ice-cream.
"As does mine." He nipped her earlobe, smiling as she squeaked.
"You need to stop," she insisted, turning her head against his activities.
"Why?"
"Because I can't think properly with you doing that! Now what 'confession' of yours? That one time when you said you hated me, subsequently, when I was walking away, you said that you loved me?"
"You bloody liar. I didn't even know you'd heard me!"
"Well, what was I supposed to do? You'd just said it would never happen, then contradicted yourself! What was I supposed to believe?"
His eyes darkened more with every word, until she recognized it as a hunger for… Well, he wanted Amelia.
"For that, I'll punish you. Don't doubt me."
"I should be saying that to you." With this statement, she turned, holding him down to the thick tree trunk.
"Now, you may have been a pirate, but I was a cowgirl. I can kick your ass whenever I please."
"Amelia, don't do this. I can't grantee I won't be rough with you… Later."
"Is that a challenge, then? So you're going to be rough with me now?" She pinned his hands above his head, eyes narrowed.
"Well, I suppose I have no other option but to get… physical. You made the wrong choice by doing this."
"What? Taking control?" She straddled his left leg, much like his previous position. She began attacking his neck, leaving him to simply inhale sharply with pleasure.
"I'm in control," she whispered against his mouth.
Just like that, they were kissing, his arms still over his body. He didn't struggle to get himself free, he simply kissed back, straining against her just a bit.
It was slow, steamy, and filled with years of pent up emotions.
"I think that the Revolutionary War may have been a way to release our… Tension," Britain gasped as Amelia pulled back.
She placed her head on his chest, breathing heavily as well. "You know-"
She began, tightening her grip on his wrists.
She was effectively shut up as he brutally attacked her lips with bruising force. His tongue slipped in and explored her mouth meticulously, even as she was fighting for dominance.
With a small smirk, knowing how to gain the upper hand, Amelia thrust her hips against his, just once. He stopped his ministrations suddenly, allowing her to take over.
When she was finished with him, and he with her, the American pulled away, letting go of his leg and hands in the process.
"I love you."
"And I love you," Arthur said.
"What now?" She blushed, running a hand over her disheveled hair and clothes. Her bomber jacket was lopsided, and her tank top's straps were falling.
He pushed off her jacket and tugged down the straps of her shirt, smiling hungrily. "Well, now we go to the meeting, I declare you mine again, and we finish our… Business."
"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow fatally.
"I did say I'd get you under me again, didn't I?"
Her eyes widened with the innuendo, her blush intensifying nicely. "You stupid ass. Don't say things like that! And I still haven't forgiven you for kissing Puerto Rico."
"You will. In due time, I promise you."
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Amelia warned darkly, pushing away from him.
"Amelia-"
She laughed lightly, tugging his hand. "Let's go then! Contrary to popular belief, I would like to finish what we started," she teased, winking.
He allowed her to lead him the whole way to the car, where they had a nice drive back to the meeting, filled with steamy kissing.
In between, he murmured, "I was thinking of you all day."
"No wonder I kept fainting and 'reliving' those memories…"
"Sorry for that."
"Don't be! I-"
He cut her off with another, sweet kiss.
"America is mine! I love her, and you can't touch her, France. Well, now that that's cleared up, we have things to do. See you next meeting, then!"
"What the hell, England! America! You two, come back!" Germany shouted at the retreating pair's backs.
"Let them go, Germany! They can finally release their sexual tension! Be glad it isn't another war between the two," Francis said quickly.
"But-"
The door slammed shut, cutting off the angered German.
"Now, I believe we have unfinished business to attend to?" Arthur asked, smiling like a pirate as he shut the door.
"I suppose," America responded flippantly with her own little smirk.
"Oh, you are going to get it now!"
"Somehow… I don't think I'll mind."
Needless to say, clothes went flying at a rather rapid rate.
"Arthur?" Amelia whispered softly, in the gently stillness that followed.
"Mm, yes, love?"
"Thank you for being gentle with me. And I love you."
"You are very welcome. And I love you as well. Always have, always will."
"Ditto."
They fell into sweet oblivion in each other's arms, where they would remain for the rest of eternity.
FIN
I hope you guys got the feels ^.^ I did when writing this... This second chapter, was honsetly my favorite; what was yours? Tell me in a review~
I hope you enjoyed your birthday present veryveryveryveryveryvery much, Misuki :D Happy real bday ;D
Please review! I love you guys~ Technically, this is a present to all those waiting for Finding Glory to come out, too... I haven't been able to work on my chapter because of this ministory .
Thank you to everyone! If you haven't looked at it, please go check it out! Please, please, please, give it a chance! It isn't very popular and Misuki and I work very hard on it... ._.
I have been on this project/birthday present since late January, so I hope it's good!
'Til next time, my minions!