Title: Love is a Thing to Become and Eternally Be
Rating: M. And it's not just for swearing.
Pairings: America/Canada/America
Warnings: Uh, sex between male nations (though honestly, if you're reading Hetalia fanfic you cannot be surprised), violence and slight historical liberties in places.
Disclaimer: Standard and not actually useful disclaimer goes here.
Author's Notes: De-anon from the kink meme, no doubt a few people recognize this. We are now officially at the end, so I'd just like to extend thanks to everyone who faved, alerted and especially to those who reviewed, they mean a lot to me, they really do. Hopefully everyone enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and you'll see more from me, I promise.
xXxXx
"I can't believe you wouldn't join the mile high club with me," Alfred teases as Matthew fixes his tie. Matthew doesn't bother to answer, instead rolling his eyes, grinning fondly.
"I can't believe you don't know how to tie your tie after so many decades," he chides lightly and Alfred grins, hugging him to his chest.
"Maybe I do know," he says softly, nose to nose with his lover, "maybe I just like being able to swoop my handsome and wonderful lover up for a kiss." Matthew giggles a little at that, not pulling away.
"Who says your handsome and wonderful lover will be giving you a kiss?" he asks innocently and Alfred growls playfully, nipping at Matthew's lower lip.
"Oh I think he will," he says sagely before pressing his lips against Matthew's. It's slow and sweet and fairly chaste, Matthew's lips are a little chapped, but he's smiling and still very warm and Alfred couldn't care less. "I love you," he murmurs against Matthew's mouth, also grinning. Matthew pulls away, violet eyes shining.
"I love you too," Matthew tells him, patting him on the chest once before turning away. "But we have a meeting," he says firmly, pulling Alfred out of the room towards the elevator.
"I know," Alfred sighs, pouting a little. "Kissing you is much funner than a meeting."
"More fun," Matthew says wryly, pushing the down button.
"Channelling the queen mum?" Alfred teases, bouncing slightly as he waits for the elevator. Matthew doesn't respond, just flashes him a look which says 'be nice'. Alfred grins back, clearly saying 'maybe', just as the elevator dings and opens.
"America-san," Japan greets Alfred softly as the two North American nations enter the elevator. Japan, as well as both Italies and a hungover looking Denmark are already cramped into the little space. They all greet Alfred in some way or another, Italy with a loud 'hiiii,', his brother with a scowl and Denmark with a wince and a nod.
Alfred gives them all a grin back, his natural gregariousness taking over. Matthew doesn't really mind that no one seems to notice him as he prefers to watch. He stands silently next to Alfred, who at some point pushes against him gently as if to say, 'I know you're here, don't worry'. Matthew grins at that, but it dies as the door opens again to reveal Arthur, Francis, Spain and Iceland.
"Bonjour mes amours," Francis greeted grandly, somehow managing to swoop into the elevator, lack of room or not.
"Shut it frog," Arthur mutters sourly, obviously just as hungover as Denmark.
Francis ignores him, placing a kiss on Alfred cheek. "Alfred, it has been so long," he coos and immediately all the non North Americans in the elevator shift to eye Alfred. The American doesn't notice, but Matthew does and something in the back of his mind starts to warn him that today will not go well.
"Frog," Arthur warns and Francis waves a hand at him.
"Oh hush mon cher," Francis says softly and Arthur huffs at him but doesn't speak again. "Ah, and mon lapin," Francis says, eye lighting up as they settle on Matthew, "how have you been, you never call anymore." It sounds teasing but Matthew can hear the reprimand in it and blushes a little.
He's about to respond when the elevator finally reaches their floor and everyone exits with a sigh of relief. "Thank god," Alfred mutters to Matthew, and the nations all enter their meeting room. Prepared for seven hours of insanity, but no one really relishing the thought.
The nations get through three of seven hours and a hectic lunch hours fairly easily before it all goes to hell.
"So like," Poland stands as Lithuania gets up to present something or other, "before we listen to Liet's totally dull but still like, super important speech-thingy, there is something we like, totally need to clarify."
Lithuania freezes, green eyes wide in what could only be horror. "Feliks," he warns, "we can not ask him that quest-"
"We like totally can," Poland says with an eye roll, "it's like, totally sad, he's like, three hundred or whatever." With that he turns to Alfred and Matthew and, in all seriousness, asks, in front of everybody, "America, are you like, a virgin or not?"
Alfred freezes, blue eyes wide. "What?"
"Surely you heard him comrade," comes Russia's voice, "are you a virgin?" Alfred blushes in what Matthew is almost a hundred percent sure is anger, not embarrassment, and narrows his eyes.
"No," he grinds out, "I am not a virgin." Francis shakes his head sadly, leaning forward.
"Admit it mon petit, it is true, we asked everyone."
"Even me," comes the sound of a thoroughly displeased Cuba, "I told them fuck no." Alfred twitches a little, nose wrinkling in disgust.
"Obviously you didn't ask everyone," Alfred manages, feeling slighted not only on his part but also on Matthew's. Honestly. They have some of the closest trade and military ties in the world, how did no one catch on?
Alfred watches, arms crossed, as the nations mutter amongst themselves. Next to him Matthew is shaking in silent laughter and Alfred turns to him, unable to stop the pout which forms. "They probably think you're a virgin too," he tells his lover quietly as the others try and figure out who they forgot.
"Oh no doubt," Matthew admits, looking around, "pure as the driven snow." Alfred snorts at this and Matthew gives him a wicked grin.
"They wouldn't say that if they knew the things you can do with your tongue," Alfred says not paying any more attention to the others. Matthew shrugs a little before tangling his fingers with Alfred's.
"Then I guess they'll never know." Francis, who has been watching them, raises his left eyebrow, comprehension dawning.
"Oh my," he says quietly, but it still catches everyone's attention. Matthew fails, completely, to stop the blush which heats up his face and Alfred cocks an eyebrow. "I apologize for forgetting you mon ange," Francis murmurs from his position directly across the table, "I admit I assumed you had little interest in such things. I thought that good old English repression had gotten to you."
Matthew gives Francis a little grin, 'a smaller one than iI/i get', the southern blond thinks smugly, and flushes a little, though he doesn't try and remove his hands from Alfred's firm but gentle grip. "Well," he says vaguely, trying to put iIt/i in words. iIt/i is what Alfred calls their relationship because he firmly believes that after so long they've moved past the boyfriend and dating stage. Some people would call it a relationship and leave it at that but Alfred knows that iIt/i needs something more. He just isn't sure what.
"I understand mon bijoux," Francis says in that tone of voice which almost makes all the times he's royally fucked up concerning Matthew stop mattering. Almost. Next to him Arthur's eyes are hard and he looks displeased and unimpressed.
"Matthew, can I speak to you outside," He says, not asks, in the same tone father use on their teenage girls when they say 'and what exactly are you planning on doing dressed like ithat/i?'. Matthew cringes a little before standing and following Arthur out of the room.
The taller blond wearily watches the green eyed nation pace a little before the Brit finally speaks. "I'm aware," he starts slowly, in a rather calculated manner, "that I do not necessarily have the right to intrude on this matter, but I think I shall choose to do so anyway." He turns to fully look at Matthew and there's something in his gaze which catches Matthew completely off guard. Worry.
"I just don't understand how this could have happened," Arthur says, and it's rushed and awkward and obviously, Matthew thinks, the older nation is having trouble with these feeling things.
"What do you mean?" Matthew asks, because he really doesn't know. Arthur makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat.
"Matthew," he says, "Alfred is the only one who's ever attacked you. Ever." His green eyes have hardened and Matthew can't stop the words that come out next.
"So? He's hardly the only one who ever hurt me."
Arthur gives him a look and continues, "no. He's not. But he's the one who hurt you most. I mean, he burnt down your capital, he killed your people, he tried to invade, he strangled you." The last thing makes Matthew pause because it's true.
Matthew and Alfred have talked twice about that night, and both times ended with Alfred disappearing into the unknown parts of America for a month or six. Matthew knows that should something ever happen between them Alfred will win, it's a given, but he also knows that Alfred wouldn't hurt him.
"Alfred may be childish," Matthew says patiently, "but he's not a child any more. He's an adult. And he will always have a little something lurking around in the back of his head telling him how easy it would be to take over someone, myself included. He's a super power. At least for now." Matthew lays a hand on the Brit's tense forearm. For a minute it looks like Arthur is going to shake the hand off but he doesn't, actually softening his posture a little. "Alfred and I have been through a lot Arthur," Matthew says, "and I trust him more than anyone else in the world." Arthur's eyes search his, for what Matthew doesn't know before he sighs.
"Sometimes I wonder what happened. I remember nights where you two were curled up and I'd tell you a story. I remember days where we'd go for a walk and I'd end up lost in the wood while you two ran around," he gives Matthew a rare smile before he scratches his tussled hair. "I wonder where the time went."
Matthew smiles back, even if it's a little sad, and rather compulsively hugs the stuffy man. "Away," he says simply, "so we'll just have make new time." Arthur chuckles, hugging back in a ridiculously stiff way.
"Smart lad," he says before pulling away and Matthew turns back to the door.
"I should probably save Al," he considers before he turns back to Arthur, "would you like to go skating this winter?" He asks innocently. Arthur flushes narrowing his eyes and Matthew quickly darts back into the meeting room, laughing.
Inside Alfred is sulking as Francis, now perched on the table, legs cross and peering down at Alfred questions him softly.
"Ça va?" Matthew asks Francis who flashes him the worst innocent smile ever. Ivan included.
"Ah oui," the Frenchman provides breezily, sliding off the table and sauntering back over to his side. "I was simply asking Alfred something." Alfred flushes a little and Matthew suppresses a snicker.
"Bloody frog," Arthur says taking his seat. Francis waves his hand in a gesture which clearly says 'yes yes' before he turns to Germany and Lithuania. "Now, isn't there a bloody speech to be had? Lets get on with it," Lithuania nods, scrambling to comply and Matthew and Alfred grin when they hear the quiet "I need a sodding gin," added to the Brit's sentence.
Lithuania starts to speak and Alfred immediately zones. Matthew tries to pay attention but Alfred's tracing tiny circles on his inner thigh, long fingers working almost unconsciously. Eventually Matthew grabs the wandering hand, squeezing it lightly. Alfred grins, squeezing back just as lightly and Matthew smiles a soft happy smile.
"I love you," he whispers and Alfred smiles back, all warmth and sunshine and Alfred.
"Love you too Mattie," Alfred says.
Later they go back to their room and exhausted find themselves tangled together on the small bed. "This really shouldn't be comfortable," Alfred says quietly.
Matthew just grins back a little and says, "geography."