WARNING: Again with the yaoi-ness.
*YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*
It was nighttime. The nations were returning from jaunts to the town. Canada had bought a new door for his trailer, and now Germany was installing it, to the excitement of his brother. Matthew was happy to ignore them, and went looking for America.
He found Alfred chatting with England at a picnic table. England looked somewhat drunk. "Hey, Alfred?" Matthew asked softly. Both ignored him. "Alfred?" he said, a little louder.
"Yaah, you donnow anythin' 'bout yer own bloody history!" England was yelling. "Ev'ryone knows ya died in yer bloody Civil War!"
Alfred laughed, a bit too loudly. "Nah, but I got better, 'member? After that, I killed the Confederacy, stupid!"
"Alfred!" Matthew shouted.
"Yer a bloody fool—"
Matthew, boiling with rage, grabbed Alfred's shoulders and began shaking him. "Alfred! Shut the hell up and listen to me! This is important!" England blinked dully at the two of them.
"Eh?—Why are there two of you?—"
Matthew ignored him and yelled in Alfred's face, "Why didn't you tell me you were fucking Russia? You stupid idiot!"
Alfred's eyes, suddenly sober, were wide with confusion. "What? I'm—Ivan's not—there's—I'm not having sex with Iva—Russia!"
"I believe that like I believed you broke up with him because of the Union."
Alfred didn't meet Matthew's gaze. "Mattie, that was the only reason…" he muttered.
"When you came back to the World Conference after Bloody Sunday, what did you say? Russia's gone insane, and he killed you."
Whatever Matthew had been excepting after telling his brother this—something he'd never even revealed until now—it wasn't what Alfred did. America seemed to collapse, sobbing. He reached up to put his arms around his brother's neck.
"He hurt me," he whimpered. "He tried to rape me, twice…"
Matthew embraced Alfred, whispering, "I can move you, you can come into my trailer, or England's…"
Alfred stared into the night. He could do it, he could leave Ivan and all those awful feelings behind… And Matthew was forgiving him for hurting him. Yes! He wanted to scream. Get me away from him! But… for some reason… he couldn't do it. He remembered the love in Ivan's eyes as he kissed him, and the anger when he saw the wound. His hand stung from the glasses he'd crushed, and he realized denying those feelings had been a mistake. France had been right. He really loved him… The realization was a warm happiness inside him.
"No," he said.
"What?" Matthew said.
"No," Alfred said, louder, firmer. "I'm staying with him. I love him…"
Ivan kicked the base of the phone booth in irritation. All this time, just a stupid dial tone. Apparently Switzerland's famed neutrality kept him from answering the phone. This was the second time he'd called the European country, still with no response. He cursed under his breath.
"Yo. Russia…"
Ivan turned. Prussia, his eyes glittering red with amusement. "Go away," Ivan said.
Gilbert frowned. He had so much to talk about with Russia! Like, now that he was having sex with America—
"I said, go away," Ivan repeated menacingly. His eyes flashed, a frightening purple that lit up his shadowed, scowling face. Gilbert gulped, but didn't move.
"Ah! Gilbert! I wanted to talk to you!" The sudden voice made both of them jump. Gilbert turned to see a blond-haired old friend.
"Francis!" The pair laughed, embraced, kissed each others' cheeks, and groped vital regions. Ivan watched with a raised eyebrow, then turned back to his call—and his new flask.
Francis and Gilbert walked back towards the trailers, chatting.
"It's good you didn't get killed by him—that almost happened to me earlier today, if you can believe that!"
Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, he walked in on Birdie and I—that's why the door's broken—which sucked, 'cause, well, you know what Mattie's like in bed…" Both laughed harder, Francis smiling nostalgically. "Oh, that reminds me—did ya know Russia's fucking America now?"
Francis paused, thoughtful. "Non, mais… I did notice that America seemed to be a little bit in love with him—which was when Russia tried to kill me."
"I was trying to talk to him about it. But he's being Mr. Antisocial now, of course…"
"Why don't you mention it to America?"
Gilbert's chick flapped its wings musingly. "Hmm… well… good idea." He turned to France, eyes sparkling again. "D'you think I should tell him how good Russia is?"
Alfred walked up the steps to the trailer door, humming "The Star-Spangled Banner" to himself.
"Hey!" came a German-accented voice from the darkness. "America! I got something you should talk about!"
Alfred turned carefully. "Prussia," he said slowly. "What do you want?"
Gilbert's red eyes glittered faintly. "Come out here and I'll tell you." As Alfred hesitated, he said, "I'm not armed. And now I'm human, so I can't do anything to you. Remember?" There was a hint of bitterness in his tone—it was the Allies that had taken away his strength and status as a nation, though he would still be immortal as long as people remembered East Germany.
Alfred cautiously walked out into the clearing. "What?" he asked a little more coldly than necessary.
"Well… it seems… invasion…" Gilbert seemed to be having trouble getting tactfully to his point. He decided to screw tactfulness. "I heard Russia's fucking you." He'd been expecting Alfred to be shocked, to helplessly deny it, but instead the American sighed.
"No, he's not. Not yet at least. You can ask Mattie about it. I told him the truth."
Gilbert blinked. "He-he's not? But-but… I heard him say… I heard him say you were his lover!"
Alfred shook his head. "I love him, and he loves me, but I'm not quite ready to have my vital regions seized at the moment. Especially forcefully, which is the way he seems to be going."
"Oh." For several moments, it was the wisest response Gilbert could make. He finally came up with, "Well, you don't know what you're missing then."
It was Alfred's turn to blink. "Excuse me?"
Gilbert grinned. He finally had the upper hand! "Well, all I can say is, you haven't been knocked up until Ivan does it."
"But—I've never been done like that before!" Alfred protested. Gilbert winked lewdly.
"What better way to start, then—the largest country! Centuries of experience!" With such elegant parting remarks, Gilbert flounced off into the night.
Alfred stared confusedly after him, then went back to the door to open it. The lock was stuck, and he struggled with it for a moment. A black-gloved hand reached over his shoulder, gently covering his own.
"Let me help you with that, да?" Alfred felt his heart beat faster. With a few deft movements, Ivan opened the door and pushed it open. A guiding hand on Alfred's hips, he pushed him into the trailer, never letting himself lose contact with the American. It was a wonderful, indescribable feeling.
I love you. But Alfred couldn't say that… he just couldn't. "Ivan… I…"
Ivan hugged him close, his breath moving strands of Alfred's hair. "Да?"
"I…" Alfred tried to make the words pass his lips. It was so hard, now, with Ivan standing right there, close enough to touch… or kiss.
So that was what he did.
He turned his body, twisting himself so he could look directly at Ivan. Ivan shifted his hold on Alfred, and, sensing his intentions, bent his head closer. Alfred realized, again, how lovely he was, then leaned forward to touch their lips together.
As soon as the slightest contact was made, Ivan grabbed him and crushed their faces together, filled with joy at this—the return of Alfred's love for him! Meeting only a slight resistance from the American, he pushed his tongue inside his mouth and started exploring it. Alfred's body was quivering, and Ivan realized again how much he got aroused by these sorts of things. He lifted America, bending him back slightly so he could reach his neck.
Alfred suddenly felt Ivan's mouth leave his own and begin moving down his chin. The Russian's sharp teeth began nipping at his skin, and Alfred trembled even more. The quick little bursts of pain rushed through his system, making his heart pound and Florida harden. The ceiling above started to fade as he gasped for breath, Russia's teeth fastening on the base of his neck. The bites grew stronger, more erratic, like Ivan was losing control as well. Alfred thought he felt blood on his neck. But he didn't care, it just felt so good to be with him again.
Ivan noticed the blood and moved his mouth again to suck it off, admiring the almost-sweet taste. His tongue probed the small wounds, and Alfred gave a little cry, either of pain or pleasure. Or perhaps both. Ivan didn't care, and sucked harder at his neck. He felt a little chain around the base of the neck, and placed his lips curiously around it. He traced down to where it disappeared into his shirt, and with a little jerk, pulled it out.
It was a little golden cross, sparkling in the light. Ivan wondered about it briefly, then dropped it and returned to kissing him. He'd ask Alfred about it later.
Finally, Ivan seemed to tire of biting and licking his neck and just nuzzled the crook between Alfred's neck and shoulder. "Bed," he muttered. Alfred seemed to wake up.
"No," he murmured without opening his eyes.
"Да." Ivan moved his head away and rubbed his fingers along the bottom of Alfred's chin.
"No. Don't wanna have sex with you…"
"I love you."
Alfred opened his eyes to look straight into Ivan's. There was no insane glow to them, no drunken flickering. Just pure, truthful love. And lust. Alfred felt the same, but he couldn't say that. He's so unlike me…
"Ivan… I… I don't think we can talk about this just now," he said honestly.
"Why?" The Russian replied petulantly.
"Well… for one, that was, y'know, a really hot kiss, and I can't think of anything without my libido getting in the way," Alfred said, smiling.
Ivan gazed innocently at him. "But why not, then? Why do you not want to become one, if you are ready to?"
Alfred stared into his eyes, feeling his soul writhe in turmoil. That's the million dollar question, Ivan. Why indeed? He loved Ivan, really did, and felt fully aroused by his proximity, but… "I don't want to say I love you until I know that you do too, with all of you, and not just the part that's sane." The words slipped out of his mouth involuntarily, and he could only watch as they took effect.
Russia looked confused at first, then slowly doubtful, until finally a sort of understanding appeared on his childish face. "Okay," he said. "I understand…my dear."
Alfred nodded, then allowed Ivan to carry him to his bed. As he was set down, Alfred slipped off his jacket and then, making sure his lower body was fully hidden beneath the covers, pulled off his jeans. Ivan watched those actions with interest, but didn't make any motions. Finally, as Alfred lay down and took off his glasses, Ivan bent over him to kiss him on the forehead. "I love you."
Alfred closed his eyes to keep Ivan from seeing the love in his eyes. He tried to get the words out, but he choked again and lay silent.
Okay, here's the ninth chapter! Please tell me if you think the quality's slipping-I got this one out so fast for you, I worry that I'm not making sure that my writing's up to par. And that would suck. It would be like J.K. Rowling or Erin Hunter, how their books started being less good after they got popular and people liked them...
Enough of my rambling- this was a neat chapter to write. Please tell me what you think of it!
And also, since this and The Change are the only stories I have up at the moment, I'd be happy to write a little oneshot if anyone suggests a plot/pairing (except RoChu. I hate RoChu, for some reason). Please give any suggestions in the reviews!