The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive

11—The Kiss

~~America~~

The American walked quietly down the corridor, avoiding blood-stained spots warily. His companion followed behind him, amazed at how silent it was. Never before had America been so quiet, or looked so scared.

They stopped at the spot where the corridor intersected with the main one. To the left was the main entrance to the building. There was a faint buzz sounding from the doors, and Arthur could feel the strength of the magic of the barrier. He suppressed a shiver. There was no way they could get out. He glanced to the right. The corridor extended farther into the building, fading into darkness. A chill ran down Arthur's spine and he decided not to ask America why it had no lights. Turning to face forward, he saw the door at the end of the corridor ahead of them. Their goal seemed miles away, and he felt as if his legs wouldn't move. A firm hand gripped his shoulder and he stiffened.

"Relax," Alfred muttered. "The hero will protect you." He glanced down at the older nation and forced a grin.

Arthur fought back a sharp retort and started to walk down the corridor with Alfred at his side. Tense silence descended upon the companions as they crept past the main hallway and towards the office.

As the two countries passed by the door to the staircase, Arthur felt a tingling in his spine. Curious, he pulled away from America and turned towards the door on his left. He touched the handle—and a burning pain jolted up his arm. The Brit's emerald eyes widened in shock and agony and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He collapsed to his knees in front of the door to the staircase, clutching his pounding head in both hands.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, rushing to his friend's side. He kneeled next to Arthur and shook him frantically, but received no reply. Panic fluttered in Alfred's chest as he looked around wildly in despair, unsure of what to do.

The Brit screwed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the pain. He felt constricted, as if something was wrapped around his chest, crushing his body, his ribs, his heart. He knew nothing except for that burning pain; didn't know that Alfred was shouting his name in his ear. Arthur just wanted to give up and die.

But that is just what the enemy wants, a tiny voice said in his mind. If you give up now, who will protect America?

Memories rushed into the Brit's mind in a wave, taking his mind away from the pain. Gradually, as if the power behind it had given up, the constriction in his chest and the pounding in his head subsided. Arthur let the memories of him and America sooth him, and he relaxed. But he still refused to move, in fear that the pain would come again.

"Get up, Britain."

The voice was clear, but Arthur did not recognise it.

"I know you're okay."

Leave me alone.

Suddenly, without warning, Arthur's head was tilted up and warm lips met his in a tentative but passionate kiss.

The Englishman's eyes snapped open in bewilderment and he found himself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes. Alfred pulled away and smiled grimly at his companion. Arthur sat back, staring at the American, dumbstruck.

"I had to snap you out of it somehow," explained Alfred.

When no reply came, the American shrugged and began to rise. Arthur grabbed his wrist and roughly pulled him back down. Alfred stumbled and landed on top of the Brit. They stared into each other's eyes. Both looked equally shocked at what Arthur had done.

"No…" Arthur pleaded softly, "one more."

He slid his arms around America's neck and drew his face closer to Alfred's. Again their lips locked, and their eyes closed as they savoured the moment. Arthur's tongue slipped into Alfred's mouth and the younger nation moaned in pleasure, begging for more. As the American ran his fingers through Arthur's soft, golden hair, The Brit leaned back against the wall, allowing Alfred to take control, wishing they could stay in the embrace forever.

But in their minds, both knew that going into the office may cost them their lives. They knew that the moment they shared could be their last together.

After taking some time to explore each other's mouths, the two countries broke apart. They stared at one another, panting for breath, not quite believing what they did. England was the first to look away, feeling guilty that he had wasted so much of their time.

"I-I'm sorry," Arthur stammered, blushing visibly. "We should go."

He scrambled to his feet, but Alfred grabbed his arm firmly. Their eyes met again. Alfred looked serious, and Arthur suddenly knew what he was about to say.

"Britain," America said evenly. "I just want you to know that I love you. Whatever happens, I want to die beside you, knowing that you love me, too."

"None of us is going to die," mumbled Arthur, avoiding the question the American was implying.

Alfred ignored the statement. "Do you?"

"Yes," Arthur breathed softly. Alfred let him go and the connection between them snapped.

The Brit turned and strode confidently to the end of the hallway as if nothing happened, throwing a stinging comment over his shoulder.

"But you can be such an idiot sometimes."

Alfred leapt to his feet, letting out a sharp exclamation of protest. He bounded over to the older nation and shoved him playfully, laughing softly. Arthur staggered, turning his head away to hide another blush.

The companions reached the door and froze in their tracks.

"Well..?" Arthur murmured expectantly. "Are you going to take the lead, Hero?"

Alfred gulped, cold sweat breaking on his brow as he reached for his gun. "Might as well," he glanced nervously at Arthur. "Back me up."

"Of course."

Without another word, Alfred gripped the doorknob in his sweaty hand, turned it, and pushed it wide open. He stepped back and raised his gun, and Arthur drew a sharp breath, spell words on his tongue.

The office was empty.

But the room was splattered with fresh, red blood.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

I just had to do it! Sorry!

HAHA! That's all for tonight folks!

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