6

His control slips.

The world around them fades into a hazy distance, like the smudge of raindrops hitting an oil painting. All of it melts until there is only Matthew. Matthew's eyes, Matthew's lips, Matthew's tongue. He feels the slightest spark as their lips brush, a small touch of their country connections trying to bring their people together, a useless tingle that fades as soon as it is born.

But no matter. Gilbert continues into the feeling. He sets his hand at the back of Matthew's head, not wanting to lose this moment, demanding they not break away now that they've connected. From the way Matthew's hands grip on his shoulders, he assumes the other nation feels the same way.

Heat builds around him, in him, and his kissing gets more desperate, struggling to find the more that he craves. Matthew responds in kind, the taste of alcohol only part of the addiction that keeps them going. When they do eventually break apart, Gilbert is breathing heavy and watching Matthew with lidded, hazy eyes.

Everything around him is a blur. He can only see Matthew gasping for breath. His chest heaves, sweat slipping from behind his ear, down his neck. Gilbert reaches out and starts undoing buttons on the other nation's shirt, thinking to relieve some of the heat for him. God knows, he needs some relief of his own.

"You're -" Matthew gasps and Gilbert flicks his eyes back up to the blue-violet gaze. "You're a really good kisser."

Gilbert smirks. "Damn right. I'm awesome."

Not wanting to talk through such an emotionally charged moment, not wanting to think, he goes back to kissing. There's a buzz against his lips that's from more than the country twinge, from more than any alcohol effect. He has to admit, if only silently, that Matthew is a pretty good kisser, too. At least for someone who's new at this.

Hands roam and he feels the edges of Matthew's spine. The slight poke of his ribs against his shirt is a reminder that none of them are in the best of conditions thanks to war time and they shouldn't really be doing this right here and now. He feels the other man shiver and gasp for breath before connecting their lips once more in a fervor, forgetting all the worries and warnings. He wants more and he's going to get it.

The monster is free and it's hungry.

A splash of sudden pain tingles down his spine and he has to pull away from the kiss with a gasp. It's gone as quickly as it came so he returns to his current focus. Licking his lips, Gilbert moves to kiss at Matthew's neck, deciding to give those moist lips of his a bit of a break.

After a moment of playful teasing, Matthew shudders and moans ever so slightly. It's enough to feed Gilbert's inner monster, so he keeps going. His hands climb further down Matthew's back, while he kisses and nibbles above.

Eventually, he reaches his destination and sneaks his hands under Matthew's shirt. He runs his fingers over mostly smooth skin, finding it strange that it's harder to find a scar or two than usual.

Wait...usual?

Before his thought can fully process, pain explodes into being. His chest is on fire. He feels like his eyeballs are being stabbed. And his head throbs as the sound of bombs dropping outside crashes through everything else.

He hisses and leans back, hitting his head against the wall of the bunker. Suddenly, his world is no longer only Matthew. He's Prussia again. Reminded of his country connection as someone raids the parts of Berlin he feels most attached to.

Maybe he screams. Maybe he chokes it back and covers it with a cough. A cough that reveals blood on his hand when he recovers enough to stare at his palm.

"Fuck," he growls. "What a way to force an interruption."

Matthew slides back until he's no longer sitting on him and winces. "Sorry."

"Shit," Prussia curses again as another wave hits, smaller than that last one. "I better not have lost my house."

"Is there - mapleleaf - is there anything I can do to help?"

Another cough, another curse, and Prussia shakes his head. Whatever buzz he had is now gone to the wind, and staring at Canada as best he can shows the other nation in much the same predicament. Nothing like an air raid attack actually hitting hard to make one sober.

"Damn," he growls. "Not awesome to have this happen in front of you."

Canada shrugs, "It happens, and I won't tell anyone as long as you don't."

He raises an eyebrow. "Why would I tell anyone?"

The blush is all the answer he really needs, but Canada turns his head and mumbles anyway. "I kind of acted out there."

Prussia wants to laugh. That's what he's worried about? Arthur has him sheltered for real, then. So many other nations around Europe have seen so much worse. It's kind of cute to see Canada so embarrassed by so small a thing.

He has to smirk, and a light bark of a laugh escapes through another weak cough. "You're a," he pauses, having to search for the right words, and eventually settling on, "very fun drunk."

"N-not really. It's more annoying than anything else."

Prussia leans back against the wall and forces his grimace to flip into a smile. "Sorry, I almost did take advantage of you."

Canada shakes his head. "I was begging for it."

He grunts. He's never met someone so willing to lay blame on themselves for such situations. Did Matthew forget who gave him the beer in the first place? Or is he choosing to ignore that part?

"I think you're too nice," he says with a groan. "Lizzy would have smacked me by now."

"Lizzy?"

"Ah, right," he waves his hand in the air, only to rest it on his chest where the pain still resides. "Elizaveta. Hungary."

"Oh," Matthew says. "I haven't gotten to meet her yet."

The pain isn't going away. The initial attack is over, sure, but the lingering throbbing is going to get annoying really soon. So he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes. Rubbing his chest, grateful that he's wearing something casual and not his uniform, he lets his mind take a quick tour of memories.

Hungary will always be one of those nations that can make him step through nostalgia just when she walks in the room. He misses their antics in childhood. Hell, he even misses when she was under Austria and he would sneak through territory to play pranks on natives with her (Or Austria himself when she would allow it). Their relationship now is too weak compared to then. And he's really only got himself to blame.

"She's fun," he says eventually. "Was better when she was younger, but you know how it is. History changes things."

"Mm," Canada hums in quiet agreement. "You have history with a lot of other nations, don't you?"

"Of course. Europe is the center of the world after all."

He tries to make this sound teasing, since he knows Canada is one of the nations across the ocean. And besides, Japan is part of the Axis so he knows there's more to the world out there. It just feels like the center because there's so many nations all clustered together over here. It doesn't take long at all to visit each other.

Or invade.

"America and I are pretty much on our own back home."

Prussia grunts and waves his hand. "You keep saying that, but you know part of it is because Arthur makes sure to shelter you both."

"I guess."

The conversation dies again. They sit in silence as the sound of airplanes and bombs crashing move into the distance. Canada moves across the bunker and sits against the wall on the other side. So much for being all cute next to him. Now there's an awkward distance and things that aren't being said.

He sighs, groans, tries to focus on the attack. Shouldn't be much longer. He's dealt with these before. Sometimes they like to run multiple passes. Sometimes the fighters get out and chase them away. They have more air support at this stage, less of it being spent on the blitz in Britain. So now, hopefully, there won't be so much damage coming at him all in one night.

Rubbing his chest, Gilbert grimaces. He can only imagine what Arthur has been put through. In fact, he doesn't want to imagine. He does his best to keep those thoughts far from his mind. He's an enemy now, not a friend. Once an ally, now an enemy. That's how history works, isn't it? Never consistent.

And yet far more consistent than it should be.

With another groan, he decides to speak into the candlelit darkness. "I hope that was the worst of it. Wherever West is, I wouldn't want him dealing with this too."

Canada shifts from his position on the other side of the small bunker. It's small enough that they could probably stretch out their legs and touch each other. Not that he would want to do such a thing.

"Are you sure I can't help you with anything?" Canada asks. "I know it's not a good feeling."

"It's war," Prussia snaps. "This is what your side has been doing to us this whole time so why is it different now that you see me?"

Matthew flinches back. "Sorry. You're right. But I just can't see it as your fault anymore."

"That's not a very good mindset," Gilbert growls because there's still fucking pain in his chest on top of the throbbing headache. "We're enemies. It's like you're forgetting that."

"Maybe I am," Matthew huffs. "Maybe I just don't like being a nation."

Gilbert feels his eyes widen. His breath leaves him for a moment. His heart skips a beat. He's heard such words before, and he does not like the idea of hearing them from this cute nation from across the sea.

"What?"

"Well that's out there now."

"No, wait," he breathes, trying to find words. "Why?"

"It just sucks," Canada says. "I don't like being controlled by my people, being told how I should feel about others. That kind of thing."

Oh, yeah, definitely familiar. Stop that.

"I guess I can understand, but…"

"And living forever is the worst," Canada continues, pulling his legs up so he can curl up into himself as much as possible. "There's tons of humans I've liked that I've had to watch grow old and die without me."

Prussia flinches back. His mind races back to a time when everything was beautiful and glory and honor were important and this country was growing and kicking ass. To when he made a name for himself. To when his favorite human ever came into his life…

...and then left it far too quickly.

Fritz.

"Okay, yeah, I definitely understand you there, but…" he sighs. "Are you not scared of death?"

Canada shrugs. "I mean, everyone is, and I'm not so sure our case is any different. We live for such a long time that it feels like we're immortal and that we'll live forever, but you know we'll all disappear one day like Rome. It's just a matter of time."

"Mmf." A little too close to hitting his worst fears there. "You sound more chill about it than anyone else I've come across."

Matthew finally looks up and meets his gaze. "Huh? Really?"

"Well there was one other I know of who wasn't so worried about losing immortality, but that just left me without a friend." He stares at his lap, breaking the unintentional staring contest as he winces at his memories and fights back those terrible emotions. "God, what a stupidly depressing topic."

"Sorry," Matthew mutters. "Didn't mean to do that."

"It doesn't matter," Prussia says as he forces himself to his feet, putting his trembling hands in his pockets and wishing for his heart to calm down and for this fucking pain to go away. "I think the bombardment is over now anyway."

Canada follows his lead and stands up, actually taking the step or two needed to close the distance. "You're seriously not going to tell anyone about how I acted, are you?"

Well, that's one way to change a subject. He would hug the other nation if it weren't so awkward now. Prisoner or not, he really likes this guy. After all, they almost went too far down here. That may not happen again, but it's for the best anyway. Doesn't matter how many weeks it's been since they met. Still a little fast if he wants to pursue anything real.

"I won't," he says with a playful wink. "Francis, Toni, and I are pretty good at keeping drunk secrets."

Canada blinks at him. "Toni?"

"Spain."

"Oh. You know, I didn't expect you to use human names so much."

Prussia shrugs as he moves around the bunker. He takes the last beer and places it back in the icebox. No telling when he'll need it, even if one won't be enough for the buzz he craves when he's down here. After that, it's a simple matter of putting out the candle and working his way back above ground.

With Canada trailing behind him, of course.

"Well, as much as I like to remind people that I'm Prussia," he grins and turns to offer a hand and help Canada to finish climbing out, "I was the Teutonic Knights first, and a lot of other countries haven't always gone by the same country name. So human names sort of feel more real at this point, even if we weren't born with them. Besides, it's more personal, too."

"I...guess that makes sense."

Keeping his grin, Gilbert stands in place and leans in close. "That's why I like that I got your human name from you now, too."

Matthew blushes and it's the cutest thing ever. So he reaches out to try to touch the man's cheek, to feel that heat. Instead of allowing it, Matthew steps back and clears his throat, trying to hide his face by staring down at his feet.

"We should, uh, go back inside."

With a frown, Gilbert nods and turns to the house. "Right. You are my prisoner after all."

Matthew doesn't say anymore, just nods his head meekly. Something else in his chest hurts after all that, but he ignores it. Best to get back inside anyway. Nice to see his house still standing and all, but he'll be surprised if there's no damage.

After all, things did hit a little too close to home there.

~!~

Canada follows Prussia around the house in silence. Embarrassment clouds his every thought. He can't stop thinking about the albino nation - and the man behind the nation. The heat still fills him alongside the image of those red eyes glowing in the candlelight, of the darker, hazier color as they dropped further into lust. Of those hands touching him. Of that kiss…

Shaking his head, he tries to banish the thoughts and focus. He's a prisoner. How many times does he have to remind himself of the fact? Prussia has even warned him multiple times. There's a monster lurking underneath the pale skin and gorgeous red-eyed gaze. He's pretty sure he almost unleashed the full thing, even without anger propelling it forward, too.

A part of him wants to unleash it now. An insane part. He knows some countries are not to be trifled with when their inner monsters come unhinged. He's seen America, most recently after the Pearl Harbor attacks, but in other instances as well. They're all a little different, and Canada is good at hiding his own from the rest of the world, but…

But he wants to see what's underneath Prussia. It's not just that, either. He wants to know more. He wants to know everything about this nation. Like a traveler trapped in a desert searching for an oasis of information, he needs to know.

Maybe that's why he's pushing Gilbert away, not allowing the other to touch him or get too close. The need to see more is too strong. The need to push further is something that should have faded with his tipsy-somewhat-drunk urges. But it hasn't. And he's frightened because of it.

So he follows Prussia into the man's kitchen without saying a word, hangs back in the doorway and watches through hazy eyes of his own as the other nation takes pills and mumbles to himself. Those whispered nothings are in German and too quiet for Matthew to decipher, no matter how much his curiosity begs him to figure it out.

Mapleleaf, he's lost his mind.

Thoughts and musings shatter as Prussia springs forward suddenly, muttering something about the guards outside. He rushes past Canada, intent on the front door. For his part, Canada continues to hang back, though he too feels the splash of worry cross through him. He doesn't really care what side they're on, he's always going to dread the idea of losing humans, even if Prussia had been right. This is war. That's the whole point. Why should he care more openly now that he's right in the thick of seeing what happens?

Angry German yelling fills the house and Canada jerks his head up in time to see one of the guards outside pointing a gun at Prussia. His eyes widen. That's not supposed to happen. They're his people. They shouldn't be treating him like that. How could they get away with acting like -

Prussia backs up and brings his hands up all defensively. There's more discussion between them. Canada can pick up words about "staying inside" and "don't trust you" but he's stretched to his limit on understanding a language he isn't proficient in. What he does understand is how tense the albino nation has become under the glares of his own people.

The guards bark something that sounds like an order, shut the door, and then Gilbert is free to scream his frustration into the air. He even goes so far as to punch the door, making Matthew flinch back a few steps. Licking his lips, he tries to think of what he can say in this situation, wondering what the hell is wrong with these people to even go so far. Wouldn't they want someone to help them organize things outside after an attack? Isn't Prussia one of their officers?

Words fail him. What can he say to all that? Watching Prussia pace makes him nervous because the other nation is clearly upset by the whole interaction, but Canada can't make himself leave the room. He wants to help. Somehow.

"They, uh," he starts, freezes when the man stops pacing and looks up at him with those blood red eyes of his. Clearing his throat, he begins again. "They really are keeping you prisoner here, too, aren't they?"

"It's fucking stupid! I'm on their side!" Gilbert rants, shoving his hand to his chest. "I'm literally a part of their nation, and still they think I'm too lazy to help or that I'm going to betray them so they'd rather lock me up in my own house where I can't even get the chance to be productive! Which means they don't have to confront the ills of their own ideology and see how it's destroying them from within!"

Canada shuts his eyes and takes a breath before handing out his suggestion. "You could always try talking with your brother next chance you get. You know, try to convince him to quit the war."

Prussia's eyes narrow. "That's not going to happen. I'm not quitting shit and there's no way in hell I'll be able to convince him of anything. That's not an option. At all."

"But!" He frowns, worries his lip. "But you like what he's doing about as much as I do - which is to say, not at all, right?"

The glare sent his way makes him tense. "I can't convince him of anything right now, even if I wanted to - which I don't."

"S-sorry. Just trying to help."

"Well don't."

With that last word, Prussia spins on his heel and practically stomps out of the entryway. Canada watches him in pitying silence for a few moments, then follows after. He's not sure what else he can do, but he wants to do something or say something that'll make the other nation feel better. Remembering what Gilbert said about hating pity, though, it's hard to come up with anything to say that wouldn't be obvious.

So he keeps his mouth shut and observes. Like he always does.

So it is in silence that they enter the den again, and Canada winces almost in time with Prussia at the sight. Most of the windows have been blown out, filling the floor with broken glass. The radio is still trying to play music, but it's also on the floor tipped over on its side. The cards from their games are scattered in every imaginable direction, and the table they were playing on has moved a good meter or so away from the window.

Bombs must have hit real close, then. He can only imagine what it looks like outside. They're lucky to still have a house to stand in considering all this. Mapleleaf, seeing the destruction wrecked on the enemy nation makes his emotions swing on an internal pendulum. At least now that he's grown rather fond of one of the nations they're attacking.

When Prussia bends down to pick up the glass shards, Canada studies him for a moment, then quickly hops down to help. Prisoner or not, he can't help but be nice in this kind of situation. After all he's learned about Prussia in the past weeks, he sort of regrets standing in to fight this war.

But then, it's not like he has much of a choice. He has to remind himself of what England looked like after the German blitz over there. How much damage Germany (and Prussia) have done to France. This is what happens in war. It shouldn't be different now that he sees what it's doing to his enemy, but since he's here and he's stuck he might as well help, right?

Gilbert mumbles angrily to himself as they clean, and Matthew hears every word. "Can't even feel glad that those guards are okay. Can't go out and help my people through this like normal. Fucking stupid. Fucking assholes. Pisses me off. West isn't going to do anything. He's trapped in the dumbass mindset and off fighting who knows where while I'm stuck in my own house unable to retaliate. Fucking bullshit."

Canada winces but doesn't say anything in response. Prussia isn't talking to him so there's no need to say anything more. He's already said all he wants to say anyway. Best to let Gilbert rant to himself for a while and vent it all out.

They continue to clean up until everything is back to a semblance of normal. The windows are still broken and the sounds from outside make Canada wish he could escape and help out there, but there's nothing he can do except to aid Prussia inside. Help where he can, right? Oh, if only there were something he could say to break the current silence. It's so awkward it's painful right now.

Eventually Canada stands to the side and Prussia slumps on the sofa, leaning against the arm with a large exasperated sigh. "I hate this."

"Yeah, I - I know what you mean."

"Keh," Prussia scoffs. "Thanks for helping me clean up, but you still might want to watch where you step."

"Of course." Silence stalks and Canada shuffles from side to side. "Should I go back to the room?"

"I don't care."

The albino nation grumbles to himself, clearly staring off into the distance, trapped in thoughts. So Matthew hangs around for a moment and watches him. As awkward as it all is now, he still likes being in the other man's presence. Still likes seeing that wild white hair free from his uniform hat, those red eyes hazy and glowing like the embers of a fire.

Maybe he's gone insane, liking an enemy so much. Maybe he should back away and put up a wall and never think about him again. Maybe he should -

Gilbert coughs, grimaces, puts a hand to his chest and then looks down and curses. "Shit."

Eyes widening at the blood staining the casual button down shirt, Matthew takes a few steps closer to the albino. "Oh! Uhm - here let me help you. Do you have a first aid kit somewhere around here?"

"Uh, yeah, in the bathroom," Gilbert says, red eyes a little wide themselves as he blinks over him. "Not sure if there's much left."

"Bathroom, right." Canada turns to head down the hallway, then pauses and glances back. "Where's that?"

Gilbert waves a hand. "Down the hallway on the right."

When Canada finds the first aid kit and returns, he sits down beside Gilbert on the sofa and rummages through the options he has for bandages and gauze. Prussia hadn't been exaggerated when he mentioned not being sure how much was left. Clearly this isn't the first time the other nation has needed treatment for wounds.

With a slight blush, he murmurs, "You should probably take off your shirt."

"Tch," Gilbert grunts, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding his arms out of the sleeves, all while Canada tries not to stare and blush too obviously. "Why are you helping me?"

"Huh?" The words come to him slowly as he quickly becomes focused on cleaning the welts and slash wounds. It's so strange how attacks on the physical nation and people can harm them like this, but he supposes of all people, the battle-loving Prussian would be the most used to it. "I don't know. I just can't stand seeing you like this."

Cleaning the wounds is a good excuse not to look at him, but he can see the silvery white eyebrows raise even from the corner of his eye. "You wanted to kiss me back there, too."

Heat fills his cheeks as words rush from his lips. "I was drunk."

"Oh. That's all?"

"Yeah, I get like that when I'm drunk. I find someone I like and -"

He freezes, feels his face warm, and shuts his mouth on the rest of his sentence. Not what he should be saying right now. Not while he's staring at the pale skin that's so littered with old scars. Not when he's trying his best to keep his thoughts tame because otherwise he just feels embarrassed, even if Prussia can't exactly read his mind.

The man sucks in a hiss of air between his teeth as Canada finishes cleaning and moves to wrap the bandages around him. Words come from the albino, though they're surprisingly soft. "Find someone you like, huh?"

"I didn't mean that. It just sort of came out."

"Bullshit."

"Well what about you? You kissed me first! You didn't have to do that and - and you weren't even drunk!"

"Kinda hard to hold back when someone cute is literally throwing themselves on you."

"C-cute? So you think I'm cute?"

"Yeah," Prussia says in a darker, softer voice, setting a hand over one of Canada's. "You're adorable."

"I, but I -" Successfully flustered beyond belief, Canada finishes with the bandage wrapping and pulls his hand away, setting it in his lap and keeping his eyes from looking at Prussia as well. "But I'm supposed to be your enemy."

To his surprise, Prussia merely shrugs and sits back. "Sure, now, but that can change."

"Huh?"

"You know wars don't last forever, and our people won't always be against each other. Hell, I've allied with Russia before and I hate that guy."

"Heh."

His heart is racing, pounding in his chest. Is Prussia trying to come on to him? This is bad. They don't need to be doing this. They're on opposite sides. This isn't the time. He's not supposed to like an enemy this much. Alfred will never let him hear the end of it.

Not to mention what Arthur will think.

Releasing a lengthy sigh, Prussia grumbles into the silence. "Well, anyway, I have a bunch of work to do now, so you'd better head back up to my room."

Glancing up, Canada catches the red eyes, not sure how to explain the ache in his heart. "Oh. Yeah."

Gilbert smiles and rubs the bandage on his chest. "Thanks for this."

Matthew nods and smiles back. "You're welcome."

It's awkward again. Only now he has an opening to leave, so he gets up off the sofa and makes his way to the hall. His thoughts are going everywhere and his heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, but it's best he leave like this anyway. Back to being a prisoner. Back to his current life trapped in one room.

"Oh, wait!" Gilbert calls, getting Matthew to pause and turn around at the doorway. "You don't have to stay cooped up in there all the time. Like, if you want to come down for breakfast in the morning, you can."

There's a small flush in the albino's pale cheeks, and Matthew smiles, feeling the warmth rush into his chest. "Okay. I"ll remember that. Good night."

Gilbert doesn't exactly respond in kind, but the genuine smile will be one Matthew remembers for some time to come.