Please leave a review! Thanks for reading, and to my lovely reviewers. Hope you enjoy.
Rated M. I own nothing.
OoOoOo
It took an act of freaking will power for her to wait for him to get dressed and not sneak out the door while he was distracted. However, there was never exactly enough time for her slip out because now and then his eyes would glance over at her and America would freeze.
Like a damn deer in the headlights because she felt like this was a car wreck waiting to happen. The feeling only grows on her as he breaks eye contact with her and she struggles not to twiddle her thumbs.
She's still sore and she's not going to ask him for Tylenol because it is so damn embarrassing. America's pride won't let her say 'Hey buddy, you really went to town down there. Got any pain meds?'
To her horror she's blushing and twitching and could they fucking LEAVE already?
She stares at the wall, feeling her heart beating rapidly.
What is she going to do? What the heck is she going to do? IF she made a full frontal assault to get out the door, he wouldn't be able to stop her.
However, America remembers he is a country famous for his snipers.
God Damn it.
And, she's not going to run away while he's awake. That would be totally un-heroic. She'll just have to sit through this unbearably awkward hour or two. Surely Finland just wants to have a quick cup of coffee and say 'Thank you Ma'am'.
Because they have certainly 'wham'-ed and 'bam'-ed.
Several times over.
Several...long...and...hard...and... actually really kinda great-
What the hell was that?
No.
No, No, and had she mentioned 'No"?
She was not even going to entertain anything but the steadily creeping horror of understanding that she'd slept with Finland again.
America has to resist the urge to cover her face in her hands. Oh God. She'd banged Finland again.
A twinge in her nethers reminded her firmly of this fact.
What did she do?
Why did she do this?
What was wrong with her? It was Finland. Sweden would eviscerate her if he ever found out and she was going to go out for coffee with the guy? Just stroll on the street like she'd fucking Mary Poppins because she must secretly be a closet masochist.
This was a nightmare.
Of all the countries, though there were more awkward ones-she acknowledged that-, it was Finland.
It was fucking Finland that she'd let screw her until they both couldn't move. And, if she recalled correctly, there had been an edible substance mixed in there somewhere. She cringed as she remembered, though the memory was a bit fuzzy, that Finland had licked it off of her.
Then she'd reciprocated and-
Her mind supplied several various images of just what she'd done again last night.
Holy Damn.
Finland really did have some stamina. And-
Why was she thinking about this?
What the fuck?
Oh shit. She had to get out of here. Fucking take a bus or a midnight train to Georgia,
Wait... wasn't that a Gladys Knight song.
She was fucking losing it here!
America whimpers to herself nearly soundless. She didn't want to draw the male nation's attention. They were standing at least two meters apart and it was simply not enough space at the moment.
Finland finally is ready to go and they don't say a word, but she gives a few nervous smiles that have her groaning on the inside.
This was so lame and all kinds of awkward.
She knows this was going to bite her in the ass. She just knew it. Oh please, pretty please, let someone suddenly have an important country need.
Just this once!
Nothing happens, as Finland opened the door for her.
America tries to hide her blush. Her eyes avoiding his. She didn't think he was staring at her thought. That was good right?
Fuck, this sucked. So hard-core.
This was going to be horrible.
And, her expectations are met when they stroll out the door together and she comes face to face with Iceland.
Fuck her life.
America smiles as widely as she could, knowing it comes off as not quite right.
Fucking hell.
The quiet and reserved nation looks between them curiously, and America has the sneaking suspicion she just might have a few more love bite souvenirs.
She should have looked in the mirror before she left.
It horrifies her that she belatedly realizes that she didn't even run her fingers through her hair.
Which means, it is a likely a mess, a sex-induced mess of knots. Also, her clothes are wrinkled, and she is missing another button.
Why the hell couldn't her shirts hold up to some freaking hard tugging? This was ridiculous.
Iceland knows, she thinks, what they have done together.
Fuck!
She has that huge fucking suspicion because Iceland's eyes widen comically and he's staring at Finland as if he can't believe what he's seeing.
Join the fucking club.
Let the floor open up and swallow her whole. This is too fucking much. America walks right past him, nodding briefly with her head held high.
She will not give up the pretense that this isn't a walk of shame. God Bless her. She starts trying to comb her hair with her fingers.
It's fine.
Totally fine.
She'll just have to kill them both...
No big deal.
It's cool. So cool. Like Ice cold.
Ice cold. Fucking Ice! Like... Iceland.
God DAMN IT!
America jams her finger on the button for the elevator as she closes her eyes and tries to wallow briefly in self-pity. This is a very auspicious start to a day. She can hear Finland come up behind her, but he's not close at all.
Likely doesn't want to be seen with the country that looks like he's just done the horizontal tango with.
Ugh. The memories come back.
She'd been drilled more than if she'd gone to a dentist's office.
The elevator dings and the doors open. America steps inside, staring straight forward. She puts her hands in her jacket pockets so he won't see that they are curled into fists. She is just itching for a fight, because the anger is so much easier to deal with than the embarrassment.
Oh... she just wants to go home and forget about all of this.
She wants to find the magical land of denial and build a fucking two-story house there. She'll be comfortable. She'll put in a freaking patio and a garden if she has the time.
"So," she says striving for some semblance of normalcy between them just so she can get this over with. "Where are we going?"
Who took the one-night stand out to coffee? Who? America dearly wanted to know. Finland was too nice and now it was awkward for her.
He looks at her briefly.
"Just around the corner," he says in the same polite tone.
"Ah," America replies nodding, "okay."
They get off the elevator and she's trying to look at anything but him. However, she walks beside him on the busy street with her head held high. She zips up her jacket so the hickies aren't so obvious.
Walking stings like a bitch and America internally is making faces with each step. She will not show weakness. She refuses. It is only a block or two. Just a block or two, and she'll discreetly try to sit down gently.
Inside she is antsy and nervous. Outwardly she looks mildly serene. She just has to make it through coffee. It was just one little cup of coffee and then she could go shower. America would go shower, take some meds, and not walk the rest of the day.
Ow.
Damn Finland.
Was there some Finnish Kama sūtra she wasn't aware of? Because he seemed to know a lot of various things and ways to do things. America clamped her thighs together briefly as they stopped at a cross walk. She winced, as she felt herself start to grow a little slick at the recollection of some of the things they had-
Oh no. You shut up this instant. She scolded her libido. It was not fucking happening again. She'd give up hotdogs, baseball, and coffee for a year if she did it again.
So it was not happening come hell or high water. She was not going to end up in Finland's bed again.
She realizes she's glaring at him, when he gives a quick look away. His features held a slight smile.
What the hell was funny about this? Was the bastard amused by this? Didn't he think it was just a tad strange that he'd just fornicated with her all over his hotel room.
All over. In both senses.
Fuck! Stop that!
America looked up and it was their turn to cross. They made it across the street and she could see the coffee shop from here. She breathed a sigh of relief. Good. This ordeal would be over soon enough. She briefly snuck a glance at Finland who was contentedly walking, as if this was not something to be concerned about.
She would almost swear that his walk could only be described as a little arrogant. Was... was he strutting?
What the fuck?
She shook her head. No her mind was playing tricks on her. It wouldn't be the first time. After all it had let her be taken by Finland on two occasions now.
Ugh. Make it stop. She just wanted to get the coffee and leave.
Finland is ordering his coffee.
America was trying to think of an exit strategy. Peace keeping, and all that garbage because this could very well turn the relationship between America and Sweden more than a bit hostile.
Oh fuck. She'd forgotten about Sweden.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit. Shit!
She places an order for her coffee next. Black. She'll take the bitter this morning. Just to get her mind off this cluster fuck she's gotten herself into.
And the fucking she's-
GAH! She bit her lip to keep from screaming at herself.
Okay. Okay. She just needed to make polite small talk, and then they'd part ways and that would be it. It would all blow over.
It had to blow over. It just had to because she can't tell her president about any of this. It would be a fate pretty close to death. America has been a good nation. She isn't the type to do this sort of thing. However, she seems to have found the nerve to do it with the assistance of 'liquid courage'.
That was it! She would give up drinking. Perfect!
She smiles at truly happy smile at the delusional solution, as if it would fix all her problems. She looks at Finland, trying to communicate that it will be alright. They just have to go about their merry way, America won't drink. Finland still can.
Then her smile dims a bit, and she realizes that maybe he doesn't see it the same way.
Because he isn't fucking talking.
Oh crap. Is she actually going to have to console him? He seemed fine earlier. Honest. America stares at the counter, trying not to blush to the roots of her hair again. Great. Somehow it just got a fuck ton more awkward.
They get their drinks and sit at a nearby table.
America is as close to dying from sheer embarrassment as is nationally possible.
It is then that she tries to sink into her chair with a slight wince.
"Are you alright?" Finland asks her suddenly.
She blushes and takes a drink of her coffee. It is hot and burns her tongue. She swallows it anyway. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she'll lose her voice and won't have to answer.
"Just fine," she replies with a tight-lipped smile as she turns her attention to the table.
Please. Make. It. Stop.
What exactly? America doesn't know, she just wants to bolt out of the door and not look back. She'd shagged the country that dressed up as Santa for her Christmas parties.
Oh lord. That brought a new meaning to 'sit in Santa's lap'.
She'd done that too.
America was just a hairs breadth away from slamming her head repeatedly on the table.
There was no way she was escaping the naughty list this year. She clenched her teeth together. Grin and bear it girl. Grin and bear it.
And she might have...
If Iceland hadn't decided to show up with Norway in tow.
Oh what the fuck?
Seriously? Seriously this shit just had to happen to her? Now? America groaned.
Finland followed her gaze and saw the other Nordics.
Inside America was panicking this was a 'code red'. A. CODE. .
This was not a freaking drill.
She put her cup to her lips and drank deeply.
Fuck that stings! She fought for a moment of control and then pulled out her best diplomatic smile.
Bring it, bitches.
Norway looks highly amused as he catches sight of America sitting at the table with her jacket zipped all the way up to her neck. She notices that his dull blue eyes linger on a few of her 'spots'. She watches at the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly and she knows he's amused.
Bastard.
Of fucking course he would notice that.
Normally it was harder to read the mysterious country than this. She takes another sip of her coffee.
Still hot, fuck. Why does she keep doing that?
Her blue eyes lock with Norway's there is a glare in her stare, mixed in subtly.
Iceland is fidgeting and America knows that they followed her and Finland down here. She's fighting the blush of anger she's feeling now.
Fucking hell. The little assholes. She'll shove a boot up their-
Wait.
This was perfect. Now she had an excuse to leave. Fucking epic. She was going to take that.
Oh hell yeah.
She smiles congenially, at them. Quietly, she gets up, nodding to the newcomers and waves goodbye to Finland.
She brushes past Norway, on the way out. A rude gesture, but she's more than a little irritated at him. She vaguely registers Iceland bidding her farewell.
OoOoOo
The soreness is gone and America is nearly dancing as she makes her way down the hall to the next meeting. She's chatting Canada's ear off about her week. Because she adores her brother and for some reason other people seem to forget to include him in the conversations.
They walk into the conference room together.
Because she totally isn't trying to avoid being alone. Just for when, on the off-chance, Finland happens to be around.
It's not him she's worried about.
However, she's still mentally taken back by the fact she's banged the 'Santa' country a few times. Really. That actually is a little hard for her to forget.
She's smiling widely as she comes across the leering face of France.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.
She narrows her eyes and can tell that he has some inkling that she's done something. Please don't let Norway or Iceland have said anything. She isn't worried about Finland saying much of anything. The nation hardly talks unless Sweden is around.
She chooses to ignore the fact that she has a baseball bat in her car in case Sweden gets wind of what has happened.
Purely for defensive purposes. Of course.
Because Sweden is a little protective of Finland and all.
"America," he purrs at her and she blushes in spite of herself. "It is so good to see you, lovely."
Her eyes are up here. She snorts delicately as his eyes are locked on something that is most certainly not her gaze.
"Hey," she says flippantly, and drags Canada to table.
She chances a backward glance and France looks thoroughly amused. As if this is some new game for him.
God Damn it. She was going to have to deal with him leering at her all day. She'd rather it was Prussia or Spain. At least she'd have a chance to amuse herself by pretending she had no idea what they were going on about.
France would try to show her by asking her to go to bed with him.
She'd been a good nation and stayed out of trouble for the most part. Except for Finland.
Speaking of which, his eyes met hers and America looked away shyly.
Okay. Oh shit. She hadn't planned this far into the future. The bruises are healing nicely, and she'd got them covered again. America chose a sophisticated turtle-neck sweater for this very reason. No one makes a mention about her change of attire and she would be really grateful if they just left her alone for a bit.
But Finland is staring at her, and it makes her blush.
Just staring. He smiles the same kind smile he always has.
And out of reflex, she knows she's grinning at him
Fuck.
She feels a tingling start in the back of her thighs and her mind readily supplies the memories of things his hands can do.
Oh for fuck sake!
No. Down girl. Down.
Part of her doesn't listen because she feels the need to shift without drawing attention to herself. She sneaks a peak up at Finland, trying to pose for cool and collected. She rubs one thigh against the other, trying to ease her sudden excitement.
She pours herself some water, and tries to drink that quickly to quell the heat in her stomach.
Please tell her she didn't have a fucking Santa fetish.
No, she didn't.
She knows she doesn't.
Norway's dull blue eyes are watching her, and she flashes a fake smile his way. He glances away.
However, a pair of arms come down on either side of her, and she cranes her face up to see the stoic face of Sweden.
AHHH! She flails for a moment.
FUCK!
He popped out of nowhere like a fucking ninja!
She fails to suppress the squeak of alarm that rips from her throat.
"Sw-weden... buddy. How are you?"
He stares at her, unmoving.
"N'ed t' t'lk t' y'u." He says quietly.
America blinks wide eyes at him, swearing at herself for not bringing the baseball bat with her. She manages a smile and cheerful expression.
"Sure, whatever you need dude."
Sweden nods sternly.
Oh... she is so fucked.