Authors: Manic Misha and Hetawolf.
Fandom: 2P Hetalia.
Characters: Matt, Al, and Oliver.
Chapter 2
Al jumped for joy when he heard the familiar boots, leaving his plate starkly on the table as he ran up to meet Matt and practically jump in his arms before he could even stand up straight from putting on his boots. Kissing his cheek, he held onto his brother so tight as if he were never going to see him again.
"Dammit." The Englishman seethed to himself under his breath. He dropped the knife and let it settle into the sink again as he placed the other dishes into the wash and pulled out a set of china and some silver wear for Matt. Oliver was gritting his teeth as he set the plate and silver pieces onto the table. He walked to the foyer and gave a pained smile to the colony. At this moment the pressure on his teeth would make a normal human's crack.
"Welcome home Matt, how was your hunting trip?" The voice seemed to hover over the young colonies.
Matt had his hands on Al's waist until Oliver walked in. He nodded and looked to the container that had dry ice. "... I brought us back game, so we won't have to buy it, England." His voice had gotten even deeper than last time they saw each other, it had been a few days. The only reason he kept coming back was because of that ridiculously stupid smile Al gave him every time he entered through a doorway.
Al was grinning like a fool at this point. "Come on—I'll help you put it up!" He was so thrilled, if he could bounce the he would have; however, the feeling of someone looming around behind him always gave him the chills.
"How about you let Matt eat, Al?" Oliver looked at the crimson eyed colony before him. That voice. Matt's voice. He wanted it to all to himself. He adored how masculine that colony was becoming, he wanted to control that dominant creature and he wanted him under him crying out his name, or rather his Nation's name.
"Matt, thank you poppet, I appreciate you working too hard to feed us." He looked at his weapon and smirked seeing blood stains on it and his gear. That beautiful red hue mixed with the darkened specks of dried blood.
Matt shook his head, he was always so unexpressive. It was as if he were perfect in Oliver's eyes, never to smile or frown, but to have such an uninterested attitude as those purple hues lowered. He motioned for Al to take one side of the container as he took the other, and together they carried it to the salt barrels as they were going to preserve it for later. Matt was right in front of Oliver the whole time, knowing good and well that if Al where on the other end of things he'd trip him up on purpose.
'That little prick.' Oliver thought as he noticed Matt's purposeful path. 'That clever little bastard, I definitely taught him too much, I have one fucking failure and one that is an Adonis among mortals.' He observed Matt lifting the pack with Al, he noticed the contour of his muscles and his body. Mentally noting that the colony would need new clothes as well.
He decided to give up for the moment on trying to get at Al hoping he could catch Al being a little bit more than just brotherly towards Matt. He was annoyed by the fact that the boys were a little bit more than brothers at some points but he secretly smirked and had to push down his arousal during the moments when he caught them.
He thought about the salt barrels and smirked, he would definitely make sure to use it soon on little Al, salt is known to help prevent demonic interference, so why not use it to help purge Al's face?
Al and Matt sat down the heavy container, as Matt was already started to roll up his sleeves and work on it. Al looked to Oliver, and then to Matt. "Yeah, Matt, why don't you eat first?"
As if to piss off Oliver more, Matt simply spoke, "I ate before I came here." He opened the container as a deer lay in the container, no wonder it was so heavy.
"Ah. Alright then poppet." He spoke as he clenched his fist and after a few moments blood could be seen dripping from his palm.
"Make sure Al helps you gut the poor creature, and if you two make a mess I'll rub your noses in it." He stated as he stalked out of the room. The deer was huge, he was proud of the colony, he wouldn't have to worry about them surviving under any circumstance.
Oliver went to the basin and began to wash the dishes. A task that when alone could allow one to think about the rest of today chores or to eavesdrop on anyone nearby. Luckily the meat cellar had a loose floorboard that allowed him to hear the teens under foot. He was preparing the food so he could use the leftovers on tonight's dinner.
"Matt! Have Al cut the sweet meat (tenderloin) and bring it upstairs!" He barked at the boys.
Matt looked to him, unknowing of the board. "... He hit you any while I was gone?"
Al shook his head, "No, but he said I should go on some hunting trips with you..."
Matt's purple hues glared, "you're a terrible at lying." He huffed, "I told you to stop that shit!"
Al looked down and stuttered, "It's how he show that—you know—he misses you,... that's all—" his fingers nervously playing with the side of the container.
Matt had an urge to hit his brother himself, but only shook his head. "Goddammit, Al..." He motioned towards the deer as they both picked it up and laid it onto the cutting table. Matt was already a master at this, though he still had a little to learn. After many minutes, they were well on their way to perfecting the meat. Al's hands were covered in blood, he enjoyed being taught how to do this; however, only because Matt was right there beside him the entire way. The rest of the chatting was about his trip, saying where he went and how many things he had caught. When Oliver barked about the tenderloin, Al nodded...
"Better following what he says..." He griped, and soon he was up the stairs walking towards Oliver with a large plate of the meat.
"Ah, how lovely." He spoke as he smiled at Al. He looked over the meat as he took some of the water that was left in the rinsing basin and dipped it into a bowl to rinse off the meat, as he continued to clean the cuts, he frowned.
"You didn't cut this out." His voice with distinct venom to it rang out. He glared at the teen as he picked up the fillet knife nearby. "Prove to me that you cut these pieces of meat out... Or I'll believe that Matt cut it out and that you disobeyed me."
Al stepped back a bit, holding up his hands. "He helped me, but I did half of it!" He held up his hands, backing up more. Those fingers had blood sprayed on them; it looked like he had been digging in the deer. Eyes were immediately scared; mouth agape as he could feel himself shaking in his boots.
"I had to have help! I'd had never cut tenderloins of a deer before!"
"He could of showed you, but I can tell that skilled hands cut this meat." the sentence came out in a low growl. "Tell me where the tenderloins are located exactly." this was his test, if he failed he was going to have 'hands on' practice in the form of him being the deer and Oliver teaching him. Smirking inwardly he was backing the cowering colony into a corner.
The American breathed out heavily as his hands shook. "Be—behind the spine! I mean like! The short loin is under the spine! Right—right—!" His head was spinning, "and the long one is above the back strap!" Al's heart raced, the adrenaline surging through him while those crimson eyes were locked onto the hand holding that shiny knife.
"Ah. And what is found on the inside of the deer right, beside the spine?" He stepped inches from the young nation until their faces were mere centimeters apart. "Hm? What's it called? I adore the nickname they give to it." He licked his lips as the colony cowered.
Al gulped heavily, pressed to the wall already as he stared at Arthur. He had no idea what the answer was! In his memory, he found himself staring at Matt's eyes the entire time, lost in them from his infatuation to pay attention! Breathing out shakily, "I—I—I don't know..." He found himself closing his eyes like a coward.
"The one on the inside behind the innards is also called a loin, but I enjoy it more when it's called sweet meat, it helps cushion the deer's innards from impact." He whispered as his mouth was right beside his ear.
"Remember Al..." He plunged the knife into his shoulder. "A sheep pinned by a wolf that cries out, can wake the sleeping lion, but it can have its life ended before the lion can rescue it…"
Al screamed loudly, but quickly was covered as he gritted his teeth. The send of pain through his body as the nerves were sliced from the knife. Blood began pouring down his shoulder as his hands grabbed Oliver's hips in attempt to shove him away. Tears roll down his cheeks, hands slowly losing grip as whimpers and whines were heard between his gripped lips.
Oliver pulled it out with a swift jerk of the hand. "Oh my, let me get you another shirt Al." He spoke as he tossed the knife into the basin and took the blood covered plate and slung its red contents onto the teen. "Oh my ,I'm such a klutz. I'm sorry, Al. I'll be right back with a fresh shirt." He was giddy as he headed to the colony's room upstairs.
Al was dripping with blood, the entire tenderloins smacked onto him as he held the boned meat in his hands and dropped to his knees, shaking and whimpering like a scared puppy as Oliver merely went upstairs. Bits of blood ran down his face, not sure to run or stand his guard— Did he deserve this? Was this really love? Was this really how he was supposed to act?
Oliver returned soon after as he sat the fresh shirt on the table and took the pieces of meat and picked them up. "Come now, take off that filthy shirt." He looked at the pieces of bandaging fabric he had in his hand. "Here, let's get this bandaged up." He placed the bandage and then wrapped it extremely tight. He would put extra pressure on the aching wound and made sure just to rub a little of the deer's own blood into the wound as well. "There—all fixed." He spoke as he smiled.
He went to the wash basin and got the cleaning cloth wiping down every bit of the colony besides his face. He picked up the shirt and unfolded it as he waited for Al to clean his face.
Al wasn't sure to be thankful or to just stare in horror. His body was limp by this time, used to taking the abuse and being a toy—like he was part of his doll collection. Eyes stared at every move he made until they ached and were tired of watching, fixating on a certain small fly on the floor. It was something he was accustomed too, finding other things to think about to avoid the pain. The blinding strain of the constant tight wrap on his shoulder only made him cringe. He took a hand to wipe his own face, or at least smear the blood off.
"Here you go." He handed the boy the shirt and smiled a tender smile like a mother would give. If your mother was sadistic bastard who just shoved a fillet knife into your shoulder and smear deer blood in it.
"Go along now and help your brother. And thank you for the deer loin." He smiled as he turned to the meat that was rinsed off again and started rubbing a seasoning onto it. "This is going to be delicious."
Al grabbed the shirt, putting it on with only one hand. He couldn't get the other hand to work properly because of his shoulder, sighing as he could only find himself being beaten down every day. "Christ,..." he cursed under his breathe, whimpering as he stood on his own two feet.
"Would you like potatoes for dinner tonight?" He spoke as he looked at the colony. He hadn't caught the curse that he had said. He was cleaning up some other vegetables for a vegetable medley. He was humming contently as if he was a cat who had cornered a rabbit and made it scream before releasing it only to chase it down again.
Al was whimpering, he attempted to stand. "I don't give a shit what you make for dinner!" He screamed, getting off the floor with one hand on the ground, the shoulder attempting to not touch anything. His rebellious side had kicked in, tired of the punishment.
"Fine then." He scoffed as he listened to him walk away. Had he been too harsh? No certainly not at least he hadn't cut off his manhood and turned him into a woman. He sighed, at the moment uninterested in preparing anything but the vegetables and throwing them into a pot filled with water so they can blanch as he walked outside and out into the front yard to collect some of the autumn fruit on the trees.
Al stared at the basin with the blade inside it. If he could only grab it and get his revenge—wait, what? Revenge? Could he actually do it? Oliver was his father— Oliver loved him. Oliver raised him when he had no one. Matt didn't want him. Oliver had to deal with him. Eyes affixed on the shiny metal underneath the water, grabbing it and putting it in the back pocket of his suspenders as he quickly limped up the stairs. At least he could have it as a backup plan if anything.
Oliver was humming a hymn of some sort as he entered the house again. He had managed to pick several peaches from the large tree outside. He wanted to make a desert but not something that he would really have to put a great deal of effort into. He was peeling the peaches in a fashion that was like tearing fur hide from flesh until he had nothing but cut fruit. He then mixed the necessary ingredients into a baking dish and set it into the brick oven, a costly but very efficient household commodity.
"Matt! Are you almost done!?" Oliver yelled from the top of the stairs.
Matt groaned, that manly tone making him sound like he was already much older than he was. "YEA' I'M GETTING THERE IF YOU WOULD QUIT BUGGING ME OLD MAN." He could be heard through the house, but with that mysterious floorboard he could heard his scruffy Adonis mumble.
Al was tucking the blade under a baseboard in the room. He might not could lie, and he might have been a coward, but goddamn that man could steal and hide. He put it back, only sliding his body to sit on his bed. A hand grazing the shoulder, realizing his arm was turning blue from the circulation being cut off! Eyes went to the baseboard, grabbing a razor as he cut the strips of gauze straight off, blood beginning to poor from the un-clotted wound.
"Alright you moody thing!" Oliver yelled back as he groaned. He loved that teen and he smirked. Al certainly was making him bothered as well, challenging him like that and cursing at him. He knew there was something wrong with him because he often abused his boys, but he couldn't help it he loved hearing them scream, squirm, and beg to him as if he were a god since he was already an empire he couldn't get any more powerful.
Canada grunted, going back to his job of cutting the meat. Al was quick to travel back to his mirror, staring and sitting as he fixed his own wound. He had used the razor to rip some of the bed sheets to wrap his wound properly. "He never knows how to clean a wound properly..."
Al could never add it up in his mind that Oliver never tried to clean it right way. He never questioned what he should have, and when he looked in the mirror there was even more acne on his face than before! The stress and blood never did any good! He couldn't take it anymore. Those eyes stared at himself in the mirror, then focused on fixing his shoulder. "Should be good by tomorrow," He grunted, "Maybe in a week."
Oliver was sitting in a chair as he listened to Al mull about upstairs. Then he picked up one of his many books and began reading like usual. Now at these moments Oliver would look and act like a normal sane person, in fact when Al and Matt were younger they would sit beside him, he never knew why but he would often feel Al lay against his leg and somewhere in the recesses of Oliver's horrid soul he would enjoy the young colony's little bouts of genuine love.
Oliver had always wanted the responsibility of taking care of colonies and now he often thought about them eventually leaving and him being all alone again. That was one thing he couldn't allow. He kept them here, afraid, and reliant on him, he was their father and he would remain their father.
The heavy clunk of boots could be heard, Matt coming in the room with blood covering his hands as some was stained on his shirt and a few beads on his face. "It's all done, old man. Can I clean up?"
"Are you sure you want to? You know you will only get dirty later." He spoke as he turned the page. He didn't look up at the man that stood looking at him. He dog eared the page and sat it down on the end table. "Shall I run some warm water for you?"
Matt nodded, "Yeeeeah—" Turning to see a few spots of blood on the floor, only worrying about where Al had went to and what that scream was about earlier. He sighed, rubbing the scruff on his chin as he only smeared blood even more. "Sorry about lunch, but I'll be eating dinner for you." He wasn't sorry at all, the unexpressive eyes told very little.
"It's alright, it didn't go to waste poppet." He got up from his chair and moved over to the larger colony and smirked. He ran his hands up his shirt and licked the few blood splatters off his cheek. "Run along now. Your brother is waiting upstairs. In fact, why don't you both clean up? I'm making a dessert for Al that he will love." He smirked as he slipped Matt's hunting knife and his spare pocket knife out of his pants and took them with him to the kitchen.
Matt stared as he got the knife, unsure of how to feel— He simply shrugged it off, continuing upstairs. He caught Al talking to the mirror, shirtless and wounded. He felt a sudden anger surge in him, but he shook his head. "Are you talking to that stupid mirror again?"
