Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas.
I own nothing. 'Tis a Drabble. Thank you for reviewing.
Once again, I only researched this. I hope it is in character of what a Dom/Sub relationship is like! Don't hate me! responsible-dominance-ownership/.
OoOoOo
She thought that she would be fine.
Yet, the wild stray worries floated to the forefront. America felt a mixture of feelings and beyond all of that was a deep pit of heavy sickness that formed in her stomach. Sick. It is all so wrong. Even now, when they weren't meant to be at each other's throats or to be enemies, she felt... wretched.
Empty. Bereft of something she so desperately needed. Something that whispered at the edges of her mind as a craving. A need.
Hollow. That was how she felt. This was such a tumultuous upheaval of what she had secretly wished in the quiet and lonely nights since parting from Germany.
Lingering beyond the memories too bittersweet to name and the hopes she'd been forced to crush over the decades, America contemplated what could actually pass between them. There was a dull ache in her chest, whenever she envisioned his features. The face of the nation that had broken and used her once, had somehow nearly inexplicably, become infinitely precious to her.
The female nation absently rubbed at the chilled flesh of her arms.
Tears she did not know she was shedding, trickled down her face and landed silently on the carpet below.
Whore.
Traitor.
Fool.
Her eyes closed against the negative emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. How could she ever possibly explain this to anyone? Who could forgive her? As she had forgiven Germany for what he had done. Something that was nearly monstrous. Something that many considered, by definition, to be unforgivable.
What sort of scum was she to crave him this way? To love him? America hung her head as shame spilled across her chest. A heavy and burdening sensation.
Why was she standing here? In her room, in the silence as she waited for Germany, she wondered why she had listened to his demand. She could not truly call it a suggestion. He had commanded her to return and... and... she had.
But why?
Dark parts of her whispered suggestions that made her swallow thickly in confusion. Nantucket bobbed gently, moving as her head turned to the side. She could leave. Even now, as she desperately longed for the male nation, she could leave. Logically, she was keenly aware of that glaring fact.
Yet, it felt as if her body refused to even consider the suggestion. Her weight did not even shift as she continued to stand, her heart thundering in her ears as she waited for the sound of the door opening. So far, it had yet to happen.
There were a thousand things she could have done. She could have barred the door. Locked it. America could have changed rooms. She still could. She could cast him aside and tell Germany it was all some vast mistake. All of this, America would easily have been able to do. But..
But... some part of her screamed out not to. She could never tell her allies what had transpired between them. The full extent of the history between herself and Germany. Worse yet, America could still not explain why she listened to him. Why she obeyed him, nearly without a fuss.
Nearly.
The gossip of the U.N., recalled from hours spent eavesdropping when she heard Germany's name -casually of course-, floated through her ears now. America could remember nearly every sentence. Of his entanglement with Italy.
It shouldn't have felt like a betrayl. Honestly, she had been all too aware of the fact they were not together since... since that night. However, it still burned at the core of her. America drew a deep breath, trying to calm her raging nerves.
What had she expected? Germany was no saint, she knew that. Neither was America. She knew that as well. It was part of the unspoken burden of a nation. None were without blood upon their hands. Mistakes they wished dearly they could correct. However, time was slave to no one, and held no master. There was no way to turn back the clock, so to speak, and erase the tragedies that only history knew.
They were both equally dammed.
But, somewhere in there, America felt as if her heart was crying out to Germany for a salvation only he could provide. There was a connection between them that had only recently had the chance to be reformed, and already she could not stop the sting of jealousy that burned at her.
Jealously that pertained to Northern Italy.
She smiled softly, unaware of the action as she opened wet blue eyes. Everything about this was nearly bathed in nonsense. Yet it felt as vital as breathing. America could nearly hear the guttural moan Germany made when he claimed her body for his own. She could feel the phantom heat that lingered with his touches. The attention. The desire and the focus all on her.
What time was it?
The stray thought buzzed like an annoying insect across her mind. Germany had said he would talk to Italy at lunch. But, what did that even mean? Was he going to take the smaller nation one last time? Possessive fury ate at her insides like the most potent of acids.
America knew herself well enough to understand that the jealousy stemmed from her insecurities over what had transpired between herself and Germany. It burned like a dull ache across her heart. There was no guarantee that he actually felt the same as she did. As if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had to be connected.
No guarantee at all.
It was a natural emotion. One that America did not quite know what to do with. It was like a monster that tore at her defenses and left her vulnerable. In that vulnerability, she wanted Germany more than ever. She needed to hear his words of domination over her. To know that she was not forgotten.
The sound of the handle turning, made her breath catch in her throat. The thoughts from moments before were scattered like leaves in the fall. America could not grasp a single one, as the door slowly swung open. She knew who it was, because it was painfully obvious.
Germany had returned.
America did not move as his gaze swept over her. She waited patiently for him to say something. Anything at all, really. She did not know why she had waited, but she could tell that it was the correct thing to do, by the way looked at her.
Exhilaration lit through her nerves. At the same time a shiver of discomfort wiggled up her spine. She did not know what was to come. Normally, she would charge forward bravely, but this was a situation she did not understand. Instinct was leading her at the moment. Instinct was what had kept her alive, countless times before.
But at this moment, she simply felt... lost. America clung to the need that pressed at her, to be near him. To be within his presence.
Germany walked in, every inch of him looked calm and in control. His blue eyes darkened, to the point where America could only compare them to two inky spots of the night sky on a parchment of pure white paper.
Their gazes clashed, but America looked away first. This was ... awkward. It felt strange and somehow her heart clenched in joy at the thought that he was really here again. She had pushed the issue of Northern Italy. America knew that. Yet, it was unfair to keep them both out there on a limb.
She did not, however, want to hurt the auburn-haired nation. No matter how much it burned her to see him with Germany.
"I do not enjoy dramatic displays."
Anger was her first response, but his chastising words from before, rang in her ears. Nearly against her will, America made certain to watch the tone of her voice.
His tone was hard as he spoke, showing his displeasure. America winced internally, the hunger from a moment before was dashed away. She had the sinking feeling that he was talking about her and not Northern Italy.
"And, I find," she said with only a little bite to her words. "That I do not enjoy being deceived."
Germany drew back, watching her with a neutral mask, but his lips thinned as he frowned slightly.
"I never deceived you," he denied.
She bit back a curse as hot tears welled in her eyes. She refused to cry now. Not in front of Germany. She still had her pride after all.
"You cheated on him with me," she whispered in hurt fury. You cheated on me with him. She thought with a bit of peevishness.
Germany titled his head in the barest acknowledgement of her words.
"Northern Italy and I held an arrangement."
Disgust welled within her, and it became noticeable on her features. Arrangement. How callous that sounded. How shallow! Was there more than Northern Italy then? How many others had he lost himself with, while America had waited for him?
Her fists clenched at her sides as she shook with silent fury. Her blue eyes snapped to stare at his.
"I certainly did not know that." She spat the words as if they left a bad taste in her mouth.
Germany was across the room, standing directly in front of her. He was nearly intimidating in the way he stared her down. America held her ground. Something shifted in his gaze, as he noted the ill-concealed hurt that flashed across her face, behind the anger.
"You were aware that-"
America sucked in a deep breath, struggling to gain control of her emotions. The male nation paused, watching her with deep interest and a bit of understanding.
"Did you end it?" The Star-Spangled nation asked quietly. Her dignity on display in the way she did not scream at him. This was not an argument, not a fight. America was asking him for the truth. Everything hinged on his response.
His face darkened as he watched her.
"I did." He stated as if she had offended him by asking.
Suddenly, air did not seem so precious as she let go of the breath she had been holding. The fear and anxiety that had been clawing at her insides, subsided. For the moment at least. He watched the myriad of emotions that crossed her face.
America knew she had not hidden her relief.
"I believe I have been remiss in getting to know you."
She arched a brow, watching him cautiously, but refusing to give in until she had the answers she needed.
"I would wager that you know me well enough," she rebutted, more softly than aggressively. It was not a challenge she was issuing, but a statement of fact.
Germany's lips ticked sinfully to the right as he suppressed an amused grin.
"It would be more accurate to say that I knew who you were," he insinuated lowly.
There was a point in that sentence that the female nation did not deny. They had been different nations then. Not so long ago. However, now -decades later-, so much had happened since the 1950's. So very much. Several lifetimes worth of events had taken place and altered the both of them.
Texas flashed briefly as she looked away. Her head moved slightly.
"I suppose you are right," she said, nearly remorsefully.
In the silence, much was communicated, though nothing was said. The pair shared a sense of loss over what might have been. As twisted as it sounded, as wrong and dirty, America wished she could have remained by his side. Though her morals and understanding of the situation remained intact, deep within she longed to have been kept in the position she had been in.
Humans were constantly shifting. Changing. Why would it be any different for nations?
His fingers slid across the soft skin of her neck, cupping her chin as he trailed his hand upward. Looking into his eyes bordered on painful at the moment.
OoOoOo
There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down. He did not have to apologize for finding companionship. They had not been together when he had sought Northern Italy out. As a nation, Germany knew that he needed to face the hard questions. More so, he had to answer them.
He had burned for America. His little treasure. His and his alone. She belonged to him. She always had. Whether she was aware of this fact or not. The fever for her was nearly consuming. But, as the one responsible for her... as the one in control, he had a moral obligation to know her.
They had to grow together, as they had grown apart.
This moment was pivotal and she had to know where they both stood. So did Germany.
There was a past between them that he was not wholly proud of. When abuse had taken place, when he had been not in his right state of mind. Now, that was not the case, and he understood the look of slight fear shining in the azure depths before him.
America, like so many submissive, held the need to 'please'. She wanted to make everyone happy. To keep conflict to a minimum. It was simply her nature. Germany had been around enough to see this behavior a thousand times before. Whatever ideal world she had created behind that pretty face of hers, he would never full know. However, they needed to communicate right now.
If they failed to communicate, it left too large of a whole in their relationship. There would be far more miscommunication than just the part with Northern Italy. He had replayed their conversation in his head. Northern Italy had cried at the loss of their arrangement.
Yet, America's blue gaze, filled with longing and love had made disengaging from his former lover much easier. He could still recall the way she bent to his will. How breathless she had sounded, speaking to England as he had rocked within her folds.
Germany missed far more than her body. When she had been taken from him. Placed just out of his reach. Something that still irked his protective and possessive side.
There was something about the way she had molded against him during his worst moments, that caused him to treasure her even more. Though countless hours spent in contemplation had not given to a concrete moment when he had felt completed by the female nation. Yet, he knew it had been achieved somewhere in the short time when she had belonged to him fully.
He craved that again.
Watching her submit to him, though she could fight him tooth and nail. She would even win, in this day and age. But, the thrill of her submitting to him had heightened his appetite. It had been a balm on the wounds of his soul.
"I would like us to speak," he stated calmly. "Like rational adults."
Wariness filtered across her eyes, and it displeased him. Germany had not given her a true cause to disbelieve him. He had never intended to stay with Northern Italy for forever. The smaller nation was well aware of that. America did deserve the details of his arrangement, but only when she had calmed down enough to speak with him.
A ghost of a smile graced her soft lips as America glanced at him, clearly overwhelmed. The Dominant side of him wanted to help her focus. To cast out the fears and coiling emotions that were not being properly dealt with at the moment.
"Germany," she said with nearly wry amusement. "We are nations. When have we ever actually been rational?"
He agreed that she made a valid point. However, now was not a time for jocularity.
"If you find it too difficult of a task, then I shall simply have to teach you." He promised, nearly gently.
He was the answer to her need for a firm hand. She was the manifestation of his need to control.