Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done actually. This is actually based off a dream I had once apon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyones amusment. Comments are cherished. I love them more then pie...
!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong launguage, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.
I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encourgement are VERY helpful. So, thank you
Bleachedwolfrest~
MVFBattleEevee~
ninaspringfield~
Thanks, guys! Just for you, this one is much longer. I put lots of work into this one, I hope you like it!
Matthew slid his slender fingers over the cool fabric of his folded shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Most of his clothing was already packed and carefully folded beside him in his recreational duffel bag.
He really didn't want to leave Russia's. He had only been over for almost a week, if that. And he knew if he left all he had to look forward to was work and Alfred being his normal annoying self. He set the shirt on top of a perfectly righted pile of identically folded shirts.
He was taking his sweet time with the hope Russia wouldn't be his normal punctual, anal self. He started to look over his progress. He had succeded in making a mess of himself at breakfast to get laundry started, but Ivan used some really strong cleaners, proving one load did the job. He took his time cleaning dishes, but Ivan insisted it could be done later, forcing Matthew already to be almost done and ready to get out the door whithin their time limit. Russia really was hard to side track...
Ivan walked into the room carrying a overflowing, sky blue, plastic laundry basket, trying his hardest to keep its contents from falling out. "You almost ready to leave, Matvey?"
Matthew gave him a gentle smile in greeting before shrugging saddly. "Not quite yet." Matthew watched Ivan set the basket on the made bed, the clothes spilling everywhere. With a helpful tone and a found excuse, Matthew offered a hand, "Here, I'll help you. We both know I'm better at folding then you."
Ivan quickly struck Mat's hand, forcing the seemingly young man to pull his hand closer to his chest instinctivly. "Нет, я так не думаю. You should be leaving soon" Ivan scolded. "Your brother will worry if you miss your flight. Do not act like I do not know what you are doing."
Matthew pouted slightly, but gave Ivan a guilty smile instead of pleading. "I know. I just wish..." he trailed off, started to consider. He could easily finish packing, drive to the airport and go home to his boring and usually forgotten life, or...
A sly grin took over his face.
He walked over to Ivan's leaning form, the Russian picking through the clothing, trying to find something specific. Mat's fingers slithered their way onto Russia's strong, tense muscled shoulders, the soft fabric of Russia's scarf rubbing pleasantly against Canada's knuckles. Ivan stood straight, glaring at the wall though it was obviously meant for the smaller Canadian. "If you were smart, you would finish packing, Matvey" he threatened irritably.
Matthew knew well that this was going to be a long shot, but to him, it was worth trying. "You need to relax sometimes, you know that?" he purred, massaging hesitantly.
Ivan brought a hand up to his temple, letting out a heavy sigh and groan. "Matvey, would you just pack...пожалуйста."
Matthew couldn't help, but smile victoriously as Ivan's body started to unwind, beginning to melt under his fingertips, the uttered 'please' at the end only showing Matthew how well this was working.
"Eh bien, quand vous lui demandez gentiment..." he murmered in Ivan's ear, sending a supressed shiver doen the larger man's spine.
Matthew stood on the tips of his toes and pecked Ivan on the cheek, slipped away from him, painfully slow, and continued the little bit of packing he had to do.
Ivan was staring at him through his peripheral vision, a weak glare present in it, but most was hidden lust Canada had aroused. Matthew kept the smile tugging at his lips and moved his body provocatively, refusing any glimpse of eye contact.
Ivan swallowed dryly, averting his violet eyes anywhere, but Matthew's lavander orbs and/or pale and fit body. He shoveled all the articles of clothing into the basket again, leaned the basket against the headboard so as to avoid it from falling over, and stood behind Matthew, watching him finally zip the duffel bag closed, his fingers lingering on the metal zipper tab longer then usual. "Come on, Mavey. Let us get moving" he ordered weakly, his accent slipping out more.
Matthew slid on his heel gracefully, gazing at Ivan half-lidded, halfway under his eyelashes. "I'll miss you, Ivan..."
Ivan nodded, his pale jawline doing very little to hide his jaw clenching. "Да, я буду скучать по тебе, как хорошо."
Matthew chuckled as Ivan bit his lip strongly at his accidential usage of his natural tongue. Canada slid into Russia's body, melting into his chest, his lean arms wrapping around his waist, rubbing circles into the small of his back. "You know I'm not fluent in Russian..." Ivan encased Matthew in his arms tightly, in a silent apology as they kissed sweetly.
As they pulled apart Ivan whispered huskily, "You know what it meant..."
"Sure did" Matthew chirped as he cupped Ivan's face forcing them to lock eyes, "It was, 'Hey, Mattie, how about you just stay for a few more days and I don't care what America thinks, lets have sex...'?" he inquired suggestively, with a chesshire cat grin.
Ivan dramatically rolled his eyes, "Matvey-" but was quickly cut off. "Come on, both of us know the world can live a few more days without me working my fingers to the bone" he pleaded like a starved puppy, his purple eyes widening to nurture the look, his grin long forgotten. He changed emotions almost as fast as Alfred, making the resemblance almost impossible to ignore.
They sat there, staring each other down, Ivan considering and Matthew waiting anxiously. Ivan tried hard not to give in, knowing well that Alfred would flip if his brother was gone for longer then planned, but would go murderous if Matthew took longer then planned in Russia's care.
He had a burning hatred for Ivan that never left every fiber of the American's being, but only seemed to grow with every single passing day. It had been hard enough to get any sort of acceptance over the relationship between the 'sneaky, slimey' Russian and the 'innocent' Canadian.
This would be even worse, since Alfred underestimated the abilities of his younger brother, and was so sure that the moment he let his guard down Ivan would rape Matthew forcing him to 'carry his communist, ani-christ, baby', which was the most retarded thing Ivan had ever heard, but knew that stupid or not, Alfred believed it with all his red, white and blue soul and would give anything to stop it from happening.
But, from the wounded look he was recieving from Matthew, he knew there had to be a comprimise. If only Alfred would butt out, accept that Matthew was an adult and let him live and govern his own life, that would make this a lot easier.
"Fine" he finally breathed, igniting a fresh grin on Matthew's soft, pale face, "But, call Amerika, he will track me down like a wild animal if you are here longer and without warning."
Matthew nodded enthusiastically, and pressed his lips to Ivan's lips roughly, pulling away with a deep chuckle that almost held no humour. "I'm sorry."
As Canada walked over to the side table next to the bed to retrieve his phone, Ivan looked after him curiously. "Sorry? For what?"
Matthew's thumbs flew over the phone until its persistant ringing filled the tense silence of the room. He pressed the phone to his ear, and flashed an apologetic smile to Ivan. "I'm sorry that I make you do all this for me. I do make it hard on you. But, you have to admit, I play you like a fiddle" a chesshire grin.
Ivan shrugged, not caring enough to stand up for himself. He knew it was true, and besides, there was no one else there for him to protect an image with.
0000
The sound of gunfire, explosions and generic sounds from first person shooter video games blasted in the large two-story beach house in Virginia. This house was Alfred's favorite, it was mostly only a summer visit, but it was a great one.
He lounged about in his trunks, a fluffy brown beach towel, decorated with a giant bald eagle, was draped across his rapidly drying shoulders, most of the water from his slicked back, sandy blond hair dripping onto the towel also. He had been swimming and splashing about with Mexico all day and now they had retired into the warm, but comfortable beach house to play video games, which Alfred was winning mind you.
His 'victory ridden, gaming' thumbs flew over the smooth plastic of the black controller in his clammy palms, blowing up Julio for the tenth time within the hour. The right side of the screen hazed red, the well-known red-orange type of 'You are dead' fading in and out.
Alfred jumped up abruptly, flipped Julio off, and switched between air-humping and holding his controller like a sword and screaming obnoxiously "I have the power!"
"Come on, estúpido. It's just a game" Mexico growled with a threatening glare Alfred's way, "It doesn't matter enough to make such a scene."
"If it doesn't matter enough, why're you so enojado?!" he stabbed back immaturely.
Julio shot to his feet with the speed of a born killer, "That's it! Ven aquí, hijo de puta!"
Alfred continued laughing like a maniac through it all, as they rolled about, braking things and, in Mexico's case, trying to rip each other apart. Julio held Alfred down, his strong grip tight around the other man's throat, the laughter finally silenced.
"How dare you- you...you stupid American!"
This comment only started the malicious giggling again. Julio's red-brown eyes smoldered like boiling blood in a black and brown cauldren, "¿Qué es tan gracioso?!"
Alfred gasped for breath, only to use it to purchase a death wish. "Usted es americano, también..."
And then a savage beating ensued.
During this 'romp' of sorts, a small, catchy tune arose from the couch cusion, quietly pleading for attention. Alfred's eyes widened as he made out the familiar jingle, only to crinkle his eyes again in pain, a response the the sharp kick to his stomach. Julio stooped and grabbed a fistful of messy, blond hair, pulling Alfred to his knees, kneeling before him. "Had enough, estúpido?" he hissed.
Even through the searing pain all throughout his body, Alfred pulled together a cocky smirk, "What're you talking about, cara polla? I can take this all day, in fact I'd love to."
A sadistic glint in Julio's eye shined abnormally bright, "As you wish-" only to be cut off by a badly hidden plea.
"Wait! I'd love to, but my phone!" With a helpful point towards the couch, Julio shrugged, pulling back his fist for another strong punch, "They can call back.."
"No! No, they can't! It's probably Mattie, you know he never calls more then once..." Alfred delivered his puppy dog eyes, which happened to be just as affective as Matthew's. "Please, Julio~ You're my fave', bro..."
Julio tried his hardest to hide his sympathy with a look of disgust. "Ugh, don't look at me like that, que patético-" but was cut off. "It's almost done ringing!"
Julio growled under his breath, before giving in. He threw Alfred to the side, onto a pile of broken glass he had created, ran to the couch, fished in the old cusions, saved the cell phone from its prison of ripping fabric and pressed the green 'talk' button.
A cheery tone, and indeed the familiar voice of his northern brother answered. "Hey, Al. You busy?"
"This isn't Alfred. The gilipollas is busy being estúpido. It's Julio. Can I help you, hermano favorecida?"
Matthew chuckled at the nickname, this not being the first time he had heard it, "Yeah. Just tell Al I said I'm stayin' in Russia a little longer. I'll be back in about a day. 'Kay?"
Alfred had pulled himself back to his feet and was know snatching at the phone like a petulant child, with less childish strength, "Let me talk to him!"
"Of course, I'll tell him for you. Good bye, Mat."
"Cool. Bye, Julio."
Julio hung up and tossed the phone at Alfred's head, hitting his mark, Al's big pouty eyes. "Could you at least let me talk on the phone without flailing on me?!"
0000
"Julio? Where was Amerika?" Ivan inquired, actually very pleased it wasn't Alfred. Alfred would have thrown a fit, keeping Matthew longer then needed. Thank god Julio didn't care. And happened to be over when they called, America and Mexico were probably fighting to much to worry much about it.
"Mexico was visiting. Thank god too, at worst, Al will send me a whiney text message. No big deal."
Ivan let out a unconciously held breath, "Do not get me wrong, I am very happy you will be staying longer."
Matthew glided over, sliding his arms around Russia's neck, pressing his puckered lips to Ivan's smoothed ones. Ivan wrapped his arms around Matthew's waist, deepening the kiss. Ivan roungly slid his tongue against Matthew's lips, Matthew then capturing Ivan's bottom lip with his teeth. He pulled his lip out a bit, let go and sucked on it a bit.
A few more kisses and they finally sat there in each others arms, content as they were.
"Russia" Ivan's amethyst gaze met Mat's, "I love you..."
Ivan smiled, lifted Matthew up in bridal style, and kissed him surely before plopping him down on the bed.
"Я тоже тебя люблю..."
Oh my god, sooooooo llllloooooooooonnnnnnngggggg . Naw, this just took a buttload of time, you know between Christmas and family and all that crap. I know this isn't Christmas oriented, but this is my Christmas present to you all. (I'm poor and can't give you anything else...)
Ah, brotherly love. I'm pretty sure all the American brothers love each other dearly and just have weird ways of showing it.
Translations -
Russian : Нет, я так не думаю. = No, I do not think so.
Russian : пожалуйста. = please.
French : Eh bien, quand vous lui demandez gentiment... = Well, when you ask nicely ...
Russian : Да, я буду скучать по тебе, как хорошо. = Yes, I will miss you as well.
Spanish : estúpido = stupid
Spanish : enojado = angry
Spanish : Ven aquí, hijo de puta! = Come here, you son of a bitch!
Spanish : ¿Qué es tan gracioso?! = What is funny?!
Spanish : Usted es americano, también... = You are American, too...
Spanish : cara polla = dick face
Spanish : que patético- = that pathetic
Spanish : gilipollas = asshole
Spanish : hermano favorecida = favored brother
Russian : Я тоже тебя люблю... = I love you too...
Yay, Spanish...!
Disclaimer : I do not own abusive brothers, abused phones or random things made of glass, nor do I own Hetalia.