Bow Chigi Meow Meow Chapter 4, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

A/N: Two more chapters to go! Dem' awesome puns though :) Nothing feels better than when you guys make me laugh!

"Um, call me crazy, but did that cat just speak?"

England and I froze in place. Slowly, but surely, I rolled onto all fours, the hair on my back sticking up in apprehension. Spain's green eyes widened, tightening his arm around the paper grocery bag that he had clutched to his chest.

England coughed. "Have you finally gone insane, mate? Of course that cat didn't talk! Why, t-that would be p-preposterous! HAHAHAHA!"

I rolled my eyes at England's horrible acting skills. "Dumbass," I muttered under my breath on instinct.

"Fucking hell! Meow! I said Meow!" I futilely corrected myself. England let out a defeated groan.

Well, looks like the cat was out of the bag.

Spain gasped with shock, setting his groceries down on a nearby coffee table. "I was right! He did speak!" The Spaniard placed a hand on his chin in contemplation. I was amazed by how calm he was acting. But then again, we were dealing with England here. Literally anything could happen with that nutjob.

"But why does he sound so familiar?" Spain pondered to himself.

I turned my head to glare at the scone fucker. "England!" I growled, twitching my tail in irritation. A silent message was communicated between the both of us.

England stood up. "Right! I'm already on it."

England walked over to Spain, holding up his right hand to the air. A pulse of orange light jutted out of his palm, hitting Spain smack middle in the chest.

The Spaniard staggered backwards, his green eyes dazed and emotionless. He looked even more dopey than usual. I'm guessing that England must have hypnotized him.

"Alright. Let's keep this nice and simple, shall we?" England purred in a tone that contrasted immensely with his typical gruff and pretentious voice.

A small, confused smile crept onto Spain's face. "Si, simple."

"Now repeat after me."

"No, you idiot! Not now!"

I have never wanted to bury myself in a hole more than I did right now. The cringe was just too strong for me to handle.

England bit his lip to stifle his anger. "Cats don't speak."

"Cats don't speak," Spain repeated.

"I did not just hear a cat speak right now."

"In fact, I don't remember anything that happened during the past five minutes."

"Good boy."

"Good boy~!" Spain beamed.

England sighed, reaching over to press a hand against the tomato bastard's forehead. Spain sighed in relaxation, closing his eyes.

"Now, I want you to think of something that makes you really happy. Something that will replace your memory of this event for the meantime."

Spain giggled, his lips spreading into the perverted smile that I knew all too well. "Heh, there are a lot of things that make me happy."

"Just pick one and be done with it, you insufferable git!" England growled out.

"Um…" Spain grinned, pursing his lips as he imagined the unthinkable behind closed eyes. "I would really like to see Roma in a bikini, eheh."

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I roared. I could already feel the blood rushing to my face, but thankfully my fur was there to obscure most of my embarrassment.

"Well that was quite unexpected," England stammered awkwardly.

It took the Brit a moment to regain his composure. At this point, I was considering hiding under the couch for the rest of my shitty-kitty existence.

"Okay…I want you to picture 'Roma' in a bikini. Let the image fill your mind with happy thoughts."

"Don't fucking encourage him!" I wailed in between burying my snout deeper and deeper into the carpet.

England simply ignored me and carried on with his mind fuck.

"Are you happy now?"

"Si, I'm very happy."

"Tell me, what do you see?"

"I see Roma's skin glowing under the afternoon sun. I want to take him."

"Take him where?"

Spain's grin only got wider. "To my bed, eheh."

"OKAY! THAT'S ENOUGH!" I raged, standing up and walking over to England so that I could swipe a retaliatory claw against his pant leg.

England sighed, the sadistic smirk on his face quickly being replaced with a look of concentration. "Oh fine. Way to kill all the fun, Romano," he muttered, sounding far more disappointed than he should have.

England removed his hand from Spain's forehead. "Open your eyes, Antonio," he ordered.

Spain opened his eyes. Blank green orbs looked around the room, albeit not registering anything.

"On the count of five, you're going to turn around and forget that this ever happened."

Spain pouted. "But I don't want to forget about Roma in a bikini!" he whined.

England paused to smugly look at me. "Are you sure that you want me to do this? It seems that Spain's a lot more interested in you than you think."

"Just fucking do it already!" I snapped, barring my teeth at him.

"Whatever. It's your choice."

"5…4…3…2..1…"

Spain's forehead glowed white beneath the skin, causing his body to jolt with a start. As if an invisible force was controlling his actions, the Spaniard clumsily trudged forward into the kitchen, mumbling nonsensically to himself.

England rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "Now that was some mighty fine spell work!" he exclaimed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"That still doesn't make up for the fact that you turned me into a cat. Cocky bitch," I mused with a thick amount of sarcasm.

"I'm fixing that right now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, and look how well that's turning out."

England crossed his arms. "A simple thank you would have sufficed!"

"You haven't fixed anything yet. I'm not going to thank you for being a moron," I huffed, tilting my snout high up into the air as I trotted out of the living room and into the kitchen. It's not like I was worried about Spain or anything. No, of course not!

"And where do you think you're going?" England fumed, stomping after me.

"The front foyer," I lied.

"Why?"

"I'm going to piss all over your shoes."

"You will do no such thing!"

"Hey England?"

"What?!"

The shit-disturbing side of me tingled in anticipation. "Do me a favor and go choke on France's hairy balls."

I quickly scurried out of the room, avoiding the foot that a now red-faced England intended to stomp on my tail with.

…

As usual, I was in a pissy mood. After Spain had snapped out of his spell-induced trance, he had made a pan of Paella for lunch. England picked and played around with his bowl of food, and when Spain wasn't looking, he had slipped the dish under the table for me to eat it. This, of course, didn't mean that the furry-browed nation wasn't still mad at me from our fight just a little over an hour ago.

In retaliation to my insults, England had taken away my ability to speak. In other words, I was back to meowing again. What I regretted most was the fact that I had to endure listening to Liam's entitled, privileged rants about the poor quality of his afternoon caviar.

Lunch was awkward, as England and Spain hardly exchanged any words. I could tell just by the sound of Spain's breathing that he was irritated. The Spaniard kept his anger in check by flaring his nostrils and snorting incessantly. He really was a bull in that aspect. Granted, the bastard's irritation over the matter was warranted.

England didn't even bother to cover up his distaste for Spanish cuisine. On top of not eating what Spain had cooked for him, the Briton had held a disapproving expression on his face for the entire meal. I was just surprised that Spain hadn't strangled him to death at this point. Leave it to that bastard to smile through everything. Tch! What an idiot.

Anyways, we were now all gathered in Spain's living room, England's obnoxious feline bastard included. Unfortunately, the twat had come here under the premise of hosting a kitty play date. It would be odd and arouse even more suspicion on Spain's part if he didn't follow through with that façade, despite how unbelievably stupid of an excuse it was.

England was sitting on the ground, crossed legged with his back leaned up against the foot of the couch. His emerald eyes gleamed with pride as he watched Liam pounce on a ball of yarn.

Spain wasn't having much luck with getting me to play with him. I lay dead as brick on top of his lap, whining whenever he dared to stop scratching my ear. That bastard was never one to give up, however.

Spain dangled a stick with a pair of bells attached to the end of it in front of my snout. "Come on, Romano," he cooed, scratching my belly with his free hand. "Play with me? You know you want to~!"

What I wanted was to claw his eyes out. England's smug glares didn't exactly help with my foul temperament.

I turned my head to the side and huffed into Spain's crotch, purring against my will. His hands were fucking magical, all right.

I knit my brows in irritation when Spain poked one of my whiskers. "Don't you do anything other than sleep?" he whined. No bastard, that's one thing that hasn't ever changed about me. Cat or nation in human form: I'll always be a lazy, good for nothing bum.

I had had enough of Spain's guilt trips. I stood up on all fours, making sure to dig my claws into the bastard's thigh as I hopped off his lap and trotted over to the other side of the room.

Liam looked up from his crouched position on the ground. The furry asshat was pretending to stalk the ball of yarn as if it were his prey. "Oi, grimy city cat!" he called out. "I could really use some help."

I paused mid-pace to glare at Liam. "With what?" I asked, for once choosing to be the better feline and ignore Liam's catty insult.

"Why, isn't it obvious?" the feline huffed indignantly. "I must conquer this atrocious ball of fabric!"

"I think that I'll pass," I sighed, plopping down onto all fours.

"For shame!" Liam scolded. "To think that my own kind would abandon me during this time of war!"

"You're fighting against a stationary object. The only war you're fighting is the one with your massive ego."

"Such insolence!" Liam spluttered.

Spain and England watched in confusion as Liam and I continued to angrily meow back and forth.

"Can it, tuna breath," I growled. "I'm trying to take a nap."

"My word! What a sorry excuse of a cat you are!"

"Newsflash!" I snapped. "I'm not actually a cat!"

"W-what in Bastet's name are you going on about now?!" Liam questioned with a stutter, his pea brain evidently confused.

"Nothing. Forget what I said and go back to your pointless life of ball-licking and food-mooching."

I yawned and stretched my paws, preparing to take a nap. Anything else that Liam had to say to me was dutifully ignored.

The irony of my previous words came back to haunt me as I stretched my back, my spine cracking uncomfortably. I didn't think much of it until my spine cracked again, causing me far more pain this time around.

I panted and turned on my side, only to meow out in pain when I felt my canines recede back into my gums. My neck was the next thing to crack, causing me to twitch and convulse on the ground. My eyes widened in alarm. It appeared as if England's spell was finally beginning to wear off.

Spain gasped when he spotted my shuddering form on the ground. "Dios mio! Romano!" he cried out. "Don't worry, Boss Antonio is coming to help!"

"Uh…you alright there mate?" Liam questioned, but at this point I couldn't understand his haughty kitty language anymore.

"Relax," England sighed. "He's probably just choking up a fur ball."

I turned my head to look directly at England. The Briton mouthed his instructions. "Get out of here while you can. I'll distract him."

Didn't have to tell me twice. Despite the pain and cracking of my joints, I leapt onto all fours and bolted straight out of the living room. Spain cried after me in worry, his shouts becoming muffled as I entered the closest room to my right, hiding under the bed.

I was becoming a nation again.

To be continued...