The smut continues~!

Warning: Lemon, oral, rimming (yeah... again), some non-explicit GerIta (I know, stalling), RusAme, innuendo, mention of toys. All of the things that cross your mind when trying to survive. Shhh, fandoms don't need to make sense. ;)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Whispers

Feliciano was peering up through the tent material, seeing the bright glow of the moon through it and… something else. Ludwig was organizing their things, something he normally did to occupy his mind rather than think on the perils of their travel. He saw Feliciano staring upward and frowned. "Feli, you are going to hurt your neck looking up too long like that."

But Feliciano didn't say anything. Ludwig's frown deepened and he sat beside him, looking up himself. "It's only the moon, Feli."

"And the stars," Feliciano said. "They're going to fall soon. But we can't let that happen. There is no room for stars here."

Ludwig's gaze fell back to Feliciano. His tone was… off. "Feli?"

"We must stop the head from coming. We must stop the bloody head—"

Ludwig stiffened and grabbed Feliciano's shoulders, shaking him. "Feli? Feliciano, stop talking like that. What blood? The stars can't fall… what the hell are you talking about? Stop it!"

"Must stop the head… the stars will fall… no room…"

"Feli, stop!"

"The stars… blood…" Feliciano trailed off, head lowering and turning until he was staring at Ludwig, blinking in confusion. "Luddy…? You're hurting my shoulder."

"Oh," Ludwig let up his hold on Feliciano. "Feli, are you feeling… okay?"

Feliciano appeared disoriented for a moment, peering around the tent until he locked eyes with Ludwig and shook his head. "No… no, I'm fine. Hehe, I almost forgot where I was for a second!" Ludwig's brows came together. "What?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Um… nothing. Hey, Feli, what did you say just now?"

Feliciano tipped his head, thinking for a moment. "Oh, si, I was telling you I didn't mind you sleeping beside me even though your thing pokes me in the butt."

Ludwig's face reddened. It was almost twice as embarrassing hearing it the second time around. "Nein, you said something else after that. Something about stars falling and a bloody head. Do you remember that?"

Feliciano frowned at him. "Ve, you're trying to give me nightmares!"

"Nein, I'm not!"

"Si," Feliciano said teasingly. "And I'm going to tell Lovi on you!" He stuck out his tongue.

Ludwig was slowly losing his temper. "Feli, this is not a joke. Do you remember saying any of those things?"

Feliciano stiffened at Ludwig's tone, his eyes round. "N-no, Luddy. Stop scaring me."

Ludwig stared at him for a few more seconds before sighing and saying, "Let's go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow."

Feliciano giggled. "Are you going to poke me again, Luddy?"

"N-nein! Now get into the sleeping bag!"

Ivan frowned. "What?"

Alfred had been staring at him for the past hour, and Ivan couldn't exactly sleep because of it. Alfred shook his head. "You're such a moron."

Ivan snorted. "You're calling me a moron? Really? You?"

Alfred ignored the insult. "I'm not the one who decided it was a better idea to keep the bullet in my side a secret than get it out as soon as possible."

Ivan huffed. "I am not a child. You do not need to fuss over me."

"A child doesn't possess the foresight to know that this type of injury could kill them."

"I did not say I didn't have the foresight."

Alfred stared. "So, you would rather have died from a fixable wound than had it taken care of so you would live?"

Ivan sighed in annoyance. "Alfred, I do not feel like arguing with you right now…"

"No, you're not blowing me off again," Alfred snapped. "This is the last time you'll keep something like this from me. You used to call me selfish. Did you even give the slightest consideration to how I would have felt if you'd died from something that could have been fixed?"

Ivan wanted so badly to say something, but he didn't know what to say. So he looked away and chewed on his tongue to distract him from the ache in his side and his rising temper.

Alfred sighed. "Now don't get all pissy."

"How else should I be, Alfred?" Ivan bit back.

"There's no need to get angry just because I told you what makes sense."

Ivan grumbled and Alfred started to laugh. "What are you laughing at?" Ivan bitched.

"You poor, stubborn bastard. Do you realize that I'm not nagging you because I want to make you angry? I'm doing it because I love you."

Ivan glanced at him. "I always thought I was the adult in this relationship…" he mumbled.

Alfred smiled cheekily. "What? Are you irritated that for once I'm right?"

"Maybe… da."

"You're so stupid. You could have avoided all of this if only you would have told someone."

"Thank you for reiterating that."

"Hey, just making sure you're aware that you'll have to be walking pretty soon."

"Walking is not the part I'm most concerned with." Ivan tried his hardest not to smirk, but he couldn't keep it off his face.

Alfred mirrored his expression. "Oh, that's right. Kinda hard to fuck with stitches in your side. We might as well go to sleep then, so you can heal." Alfred sat up abruptly and threw his arms above his head, stretching. "You know, I should really get that gauze Jeanne gave us just in case you start bleeding some time during the night." He scrambled, naked, out of the sleeping bag, hunching over to search through his pack. He found the gauze, but it slipped from his grasp and rolled across the tent. "Damn," he said and got on all fours, stretching to retrieve it.

Ivan knew exactly what the American was doing, and he rolled his eyes—though it was hard to look at Alfred's pert, bare ass and not get aroused. If Ivan's side wasn't hurting like hell, he would have gotten up and shoved his cock all the way to the hilt inside of Alfred (with no lube whatsoever, which was what the slut deserved, honestly). "You little tease. Now look what you've done." Alfred peered back as Ivan shifted the material so that his hard cock was revealed. "Get over here and take care of it, slut."

"I'm not a slut," Alfred protested, though just as soon he was hovering over Ivan's shaft, staring at it eagerly. He licked the crown and shivered when he saw it twitch in response. Fuck, did he want that in him…

"Sure," Ivan drawled as he ran his fingers through Alfred's hair and pushed his head down toward his cock. "Suck."

"I shouldn't even be doing this," Alfred said, pumping the cock with his hand. "You're the one who was acting like a pretentious asshole. You should totally be giving me a blow for my awesome advice."

Ivan pushed his head down more and Alfred's mouth finally wrapped around the head of his needy cock. He groaned. "I am the one who's in pain. I need a distraction. Now suck. And none of that teasing bullshit. I know you can deep throat me."

Alfred squirmed at the commands and went down halfway on Ivan. It had been a while, and his throat convulsed the slightest bit, but he managed to find a rhythm and bobbed his head. "Mmm." He felt the shaft throb in his mouth and ran his tongue along it, feeling the taut skin and pulsing veins. He shifted his hips against the sleeping bag, struggling to find friction for his own swelling dick. Eventually his hand went to it, slicked with his saliva and Ivan's precum, rubbing at it fervently before going up to his balls, pressing them, and going farther still.

Ivan knew when Alfred had inserted his fingers into himself, as his mouth became a little tighter and his jaw clenched. He stiffened and whined. It was such an uncomfortable position, and his own fingers were a poor substitute to what Alfred really wanted. Ivan took pity on him and said, "Alfred, stop."

Alfred pulled off of his cock, a thread of saliva following, peering up at him. He was red-faced and panting. "V-Vanya…?"

"Straddle me backward," Ivan ordered, and Alfred excitedly did so. Alfred gasped when his cheeks were pulled apart and his hole examined. Ivan thanked God they'd had the sense to rinse their intimate parts recently. Things tended to get funky down there otherwise…

"V-Vanya~!" Alfred keened as a tongue penetrated him. It was no longer cold like it was when Ivan was a nation—no part of him was so cold. It was warm and slick and felt so good against his inner walls. He was so distracted by the rimming (of which he hadn't had in a long while), he almost forgot to cater to Ivan's need.

He wrapped his lips around Ivan's cock and went down again, quivering as the warm tongue teasing him thrust in and out. Ivan pulled away for a moment to watch Alfred's hole twitch and wink and, suddenly, he couldn't be satisfied with just a blowjob.

Alfred tasted a copious amount of precum on his tongue before Ivan began tugging at his hips. "Turn around and straddle me."

Alfred did so and only when he felt Ivan's hard cock against his ass did he realize Ivan's intentions. "No… Vanya, your side…"

"To hell with my side," Ivan growled and reached around to spread Alfred's asscheeks. "Ride me before I blow all over you."

"Vanya…" Alfred moaned and lifted himself up, sinking down on Ivan's cock with a shudder. He set a steady pace, ignoring the slight ache in his ass as he placed his hands on Ivan's chest for balance. Ivan watched with hungry eyes, taking in everything before him and chalking it up as one of the most beautiful, arousing things he had ever seen.

Alfred rightly knew he shouldn't be riding such a large cock shortly before he would be walking, but after everything that had happened that night Alfred needed to have Ivan inside him, be close to him like this. That and he felt kind of sorry for all the pain Ivan was in, even though it was mostly Ivan's own fault he was in pain anyway.

"Ah, unh." Alfred's legs were growing tired and it was a struggle to keep his voice in check. How Ivan filled him was like nothing else he had ever felt. He would be aching for a few days after this, but he couldn't stop moving, going down on Ivan's cock. "V-Vanya… unf."

"Alfred, красивый," Ivan groaned and took note of Alfred's weakened state. He wished he had the ability to fuck him himself, but he was afraid of breaking the stitches. Instead, he took pity and trailed his hand up Alfred's flushed chest to tweak a nipple. Alfred gasped and clenched around him. Ivan closed his eyes, taking in the sensation of Alfred's tight heat. He may never get to feel this again.

Alfred's hips slowed until he was practically squirming on Ivan's lap. "Vanya, please…" he panted, and Ivan knew what he needed. His hand moved from his lover's chest to his dripping cock and fisted it until Alfred's whole body stiffened and he threw his head back. Ivan was tempted to thrust up into him, but he withheld himself just barely. Words were lost to Alfred as he came. His insides twitched and pulsed around Ivan and milked him of his orgasm not long after.

Alfred was so exhausted afterward, his legs shaking uncontrollably and his chest heaving, that he fell onto Ivan. The Russian wrapped his arms around him and just held him. He eventually had the mind to pull up the sleeping bag so that it covered them both. After a few minutes of lying there, Alfred caught his breath and turned his head, lips brushing Ivan's ear. "Fuck, I love you."

Ivan chewed his lip, feeling a prickly lump rise in his throat and his face go hot. He hadn't felt like this for centuries. As if with just those three words, the ground was being snatched out from beneath his feet and the walls he had been hiding behind (to protect from all the hurt) were being hammered down. It was so much at once that Ivan feared that his insecurity and happiness (his fear of how close he might have been to death earlier) would manifest itself quite noticeably.

Because he couldn't say he may just cry. Ivan never cried. Well, except for that one time, but that didn't count…

Alfred could feel Ivan's chest contract in a weird sort of way and feared he may be suffocating him. "Um, we'd better clean up…"

"Nyet," Ivan said, his voice alarmingly shaky. He cleared his throat to cover it up and pulled Alfred back to him, holding him again. "Stay with me."

Alfred's eyes widened when he realized what Ivan's voice meant and, as much as he wanted to see Ivan's face like this, he knew it would only wound the Russian's pride. So he remained laying against him, nose in his shoulder. He smiled.

"All right, ya big teddy bear."

"Don't make me roll us over and show you how much a real bear weighs."

Alfred broke out in snickers. "Yeah, you, ha, really are a 'bear.' Hahahaha!"

Ivan frowned. "What are you meaning? I only implied that I would crush you if I-"

"Shh, don't ruin the lulz."

Ivan thought it best not to ask what that was either.

"Nnn," Arthur groaned as light pierced through his eyelids and burrowed deeper into his sleeping bag, pressing back against a body that should be there. But there was none and he remembered.

He sat up and peered across the tent to see Francis holding Matthew, both asleep. Arthur wasn't going to blame Matthew for interrupting them last night, but he was nonetheless disappointed that they couldn't have continued.

He sighed and pulled on some clothes, afterward crawling over and giving Francis's shoulder a shake. "Francis, it's morning. Wake up."

Francis mumbled something and his arms tightened around Matthew. To Arthur's horror, he saw Francis's lips trail down Matthew's neck and one of his hands sink lower…

"Francis!"

Francis stopped and his eyes snapped open, blinking in the harsh light and peering up at Arthur. "Hmm, amour, what is it? Why aren't you in…?" He looked down and realized he was sleeping beside Matthew and not Arthur. His face went hot with embarrassment, and he snatched his hand back. "Oh… oh, oops, honhon."

Arthur was unamused. "Get up."

Francis nodded and nudged Matthew. "It is morning, petit. We must get ready now."

Matthew shifted around a bit and squinted. "Huh? Morning already? Shit…"

"What," Arthur asked, trying to keep the jealous bite out of his voice but not succeeding in the least. "Didn't sleep well?"

Matthew all at once realized where he was and with whom he was laying and scrambled out of the sleeping bag, blushing. "W-well, uh… yeah, kinda."

Arthur saw the dark circles under Matthew's eyes and felt guilty about his reaction. He had to give up sex with his lover for one night. Matthew had to give up sex with his lover forever. It didn't seem right. What's wrong with me? When did my cock start thinking for me? Of course it was Francis's fault. Everything was always Francis's fault.

Francis was dressed first, anxious to get out of the tent for his earlier embarrassment. He had a feeling he was due for a good chewing out, and he wanted to delay that for as long as possible. As soon as he slipped out, Matthew said, "I'm sorry for… disrupting you last night."

"There's no need to apologize, lad," Arthur replied, pulling on his coat. "The least we could do was let you stay the night."

They both knew that the end of the sentence was really 'after what happened to Sadiq', but neither mentioned it. Matthew didn't need to be reminded once again that he was alone. The insinuation, however, still stung, intentional or not.

The whole camp was up before long, Francis going to wake the others as soon as he left the tent. Everyone was so eager to finally get to a house and get some proper rest that they didn't worry over what rebels might be dwelling within the city. So far they hadn't run into any sort of trouble, but Ludwig was still anxious nonetheless.

Carter, who had taken last watch, walked over to greet him.

"Gerald says we're not far off now. An hour and a half tops."

"It will be good to settle down for a bit," Ludwig said, although he was still a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. Not so much about who would be living there as to what they would do after they departed. "The weather has cleared."

The sun had made an appearance for the first time in days, casting a hue over the snow that made the land too bright to look at for a long period of time. The clouds were clearing and their bad luck seemed to be as well. Despite the chill, Ludwig felt the warmth of the sun on his face—something he hadn't realized he'd missed until then.

"Will there be room for us there?"

"If there isn't, we'll make some," Carter assured him before turning to walk off.

Ludwig grabbed him by the shoulder. "Carter."

The boy stiffened at his strong grip. "Yes, sir?"

"You're a smart kid. You have to know that what happened to your friends is not your fault."

Carter winced. "Is it that obvious?" His voice was barely a whisper. When Ludwig only stared, Carter shook his head. "Everyone I've met has seemed braver than me. Even Nate calls me chickenshit. And he's younger than I am."

"You're not," Ludwig said. It was like reassuring a smarter Feliciano… if Feliciano was Asian and wore glasses and wasn't a country or his lov—okay, so this guy had nothing really in common with Feliciano, but whatever. Close enough. "Bravery is nothing but adrenaline and instinct. It has nothing to do with your conscience."

Carter laughed. "Now you sound like my old man. He worked on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, guiding planes to land and take off. After my brother went into the air force, I was expected to follow. It's family tradition, after all." He glanced at Ludwig. "But I didn't want to be just another statistic. I'm not good at leading. When I told Dad I wanted to fiddle around with computers my whole life, he practically blew up. I had to work three jobs in high school to fund my tuition, but then I got a scholarship to UCLA and… I was elated. If it wasn't for my mom, though, I would've been kicked out of the house. But you know what? I set a goal for myself. I was gonna prove to my dad that I could be just as good as my brother. One day, he'd have a problem with his hard drive or get a virus or just something and then he'd realize…" Carter blushed and shook his head. "Sorry, now I'm just ranting. Besides, they're gone. I haven't heard that they are, but I just know…" Carter sniffed and coughed. "Anyway, thanks for listening. Beats being jeered at by that delinquent brat…"

"Not a problem," Ludwig said, releasing him. "If we can get this shit cleaned up, you'll go somewhere."

Carter looked a bit meek. "Thanks." And he left to rejoin his own group.

It took a shorter time than usual to pack up all their things and jam them into the vehicles. Of course Ivan didn't participate when it came to that. Alfred made sure to watch him closely so that he didn't get the idea in his head. But something drew his attention away.

"Artie," Alfred said with a smirk. "You're limping."

Arthur stopped, stiffening, and turned around, fixing him with a glare. "So? You have one as well, but you don't see me commenting on it."

Alfred blushed a bit. "Yeah, but I have an excuse."

Arthur scoffed. "I could hear your 'excuse' all the way across camp last night. Haven't I told you already to be quieter?"

Alfred cleared his throat, trying to draw attention away from his glowing face. "Well, you're just boring."

Arthur gave him a withering look. "I didn't get laid last night, you twit," he deadpanned.

"Huh? Then why are you limping?"

"Bruises. We all have bruises, don't we? Damn, I didn't know I needed to check in with you every time I get so much as a bloody scratch."

"That's a big bruise for you to be limping like that. You couldn't have gotten that by not doing something dangerous."

"I haven't done anything dangerous!" Arthur snapped, irritated, and he hoped the dimwit was still dimwitted enough to be oblivious to the fact that Arthur was lying through his teeth. Ever since that little fall he had by the tractor out in Wyoming, he'd been having to cope with a great bruise going all the way from his thigh to his inner knee. Courtesy of the rocky lip of the ravine he nearly fell into. Francis worried, sure, but he didn't need another mother hen on his tail.

Alfred threw his hands up defensively. "Whoa, there, bro. I'm real sorry you didn't get some ass last night, but that's no reason to be all bitchy."

Arthur glowered. "I'll be bitchy if I want. May I remind you that you don't have two burnt, useless stumps for hands."

"Artie, I'm gonna have a look at that when we get to that house," Alfred said firmly and when Arthur opened his mouth to protest, Alfred snapped, "Do it, or I'll slice up your pants while you're sleeping to look at it. Either way."

Arthur fumed and then, suddenly, he composed himself. "Fine," he said, as if he was above it all. "But the next time I hear you two going at it, I'll wake everyone else so they can hear it as well." And he marched off.

Alfred blinked, staring after him in shock. He wouldn't possibly? No… "Heheh," Ivan chuckled, walking up beside him. "I wouldn't mind an audience~"

Alfred shoved him. "Shut up, you pervert."

"You say that now, but who was the little slut last night~?"

"There won't be an any night if you keep talking."

"Oh, stop lying to yourself."

They set off again, this time with Yao, Kiku, Lovino, and Gilbert in a car without Marvin and Nate. Kiku was staring thoughtfully out the window, blissfully unaware that Yao couldn't stop staring at him. What was the younger country's problem? Did Yao need to present some sort of invitation? Did he need to be more obvious than he already was? No, Yao thought, impossible, stupid. Kiku, as perceptive as he was, had to know what was going on between them at the moment, had to know that Yao was worrying over it, had to know that Yao's eyes were always falling upon him at the most random of moments.

He just needs time,Yao told himself confidently. But they only had so much time to waste.

"Che."

Yao turned to see Lovino glaring right at him and tried to keep color from creeping onto his face, knowing that the Italian had been watching him. "What?"

Lovino leaned over (and Gilbert was too busy smiling inanely and staring off into space, possibly thinking about how awesome he was, to notice) and said in a low voice, "Have you done him yet?"

Yao definitely couldn't keep the heat off his cheeks now. "W-what sort of question is that?"

"A curious one," Lovino admitted and added, "What did he look like during your first time?"

Yao blushed right up to his ears and glanced away, hoping against hope to just return to his previous state of silence. "This is not proper conversa—"

"Just tell me, dammit."

Yao swallowed his embarrassment and whispered, "Yes, we have. And… and he looked…" Yao's breath caught and then the words were slipping out of his mouth before he could catch them. "He looked beautiful."

Lovino smirked triumphantly at the hazy sort of look in Yao's eyes. "Goddamn, you're really in over your head, huh?"

"Sh-shut up! You shouldn't be talking when I hear you last night with him." He nodded over to Gilbert, who was still, thankfully, oblivious.

Lovino blushed a bit, but he didn't let that deter him. His smirk widened. "Ah, so you didn't get any last night?"

Yao's face was on fire. "W-wha… how would you know that—"

"You heard us," Lovino muttered. "If you were fucking, you wouldn't have given two shits about all the other noises around camp."

Yao frowned. Deeply. How could this disrespectful, snappish man get more than he did? And all he and Gilbert did was bicker. Yao showed infinite affection to his lover whenever he could—why the hell wasn't it working? "No," Yao admitted in a deadpan. "We didn't do it. So, what? Why you butting into my love life, huh? Yours seems to need lot of work still."

Lovino's lips twitched slightly downward at the comment. "I'm trying to help you, you uppity asshole, if you would stop talking shit."

Yao promptly shut his mouth, though he wanted to say much more. He couldn't believe he—who was thousands and thousands of years old, had developed some of the first sex toys, for God's sake—was taking advice from Lovino. Yeah, as if Lovino had had countless lovers in the past to prove his knowledge was of any worth in this area. Still, he was curious. Anything to keep him from staring at Kiku again. His neck was starting to get a crick, and when you were as old as Yao, it was usually far more than just a crick. "I'm listening."

Lovino leaned in further and murmured, "How did he look last night when you tried?"

Yao balked. "How the hell—"

"Oh, don't get a stick up your ass," Lovino snapped. "It's not like I was listening specifically for you or anything. It was clear everyone was fucking like rabbits last night if they could get some. The amount of limps and smug expressions are enough to confirm that shit. Now, how did he look?"

Yao swallowed and replied, "Distant."

Lovino lifted an eyebrow. "Che, what were you doing, breathing on him?"

"No!" Yao said offensively before his voice became quieter and meeker, and his gaze wandered away again. "I was… stimulating him. More than enough for a reaction!" He tried to hide the fact that his face was pure red behind his snappy tone.

Lovino's smirk turned into an all-out leer, and Yao would have punched him if it weren't for Gilbert being so close. It wasn't like he was afraid of Gilbert—he could run circles around that man any day—he just didn't want to ride in the car with the amount of tension that would form between them if he did happen to punch Lovino. So, there. His excuse. "You mean to say that you were sucking him off?" Yao sputtered and Lovino continued on, "Well, that is certainly strange, but I wouldn't put it past him to be unresponsive. He's sort of like that most of the time anyway. So, I assume that's how it's been for a while?"

Yao nodded.

Lovino scoffed. "Wow, thank fuck I don't have to deal with that shit!"

Yao gave him a withering look. "Are you going to give me advice or boast?"

"Well, boast first," Lovino said and Yao appeared unamused. "But that's done and over with, so I'll give you some fucking advice. Now, Kiku—"—he had to pause. Using a nation's name instead of calling them 'bastard' or 'shithead' or 'fucktard' was certainly strange on his tongue—"he is feeling a bit weighed down by all this, I'm guessing."

Yao cocked his head. "What you mean by that?"

Lovino frowned abruptly. "You're smothering him, so fucking pry your clingy fingers off him and give him some fucking space."

Yao scowled. "How would you know anything? I have been with Kiku the most since we set out. I should know what is good for him and what is not."

"You don't," Lovino said curtly and Yao steamed. "Don't get your ponytail in a fucking twist. I'm just saying you should follow my advice and maybe you would get some."

"But, I can't," Yao said, and his voice wavered a bit. Lovino's features seemed to soften in sympathy then, but only for a moment before they sharpened back up again. "If something happened and I've spent days without being by his side, I don't know what I would do."

Lovino sighed. "Look, I don't even know why I'm helping you, but since I am you better listen to my goddamn advice and take it seriously."

Yao glared daggers. "And how would you know? Have you seen it work?"

Toni. He fucking smothered me as soon as he got hold of me. That had been the reason why Lovino had split the second Toni had no control of him anymore. He just had to get away, but then he came back. He realized that Toni's suffocating nature wasn't because he wanted to keep Lovino sheltered from everything (well, maybe some things), but because Toni wanted his attention. All of his attention. Because he loved him. Lovino felt a slight stirring in his chest at the thought of him, but every—goddamn—romantic image that swam into his vision was of Gilbert. And Lovino wasn't guilty. Not anymore.

"My… friend once had this issue. Just trust me with this shit and let go. Kiku has always needed his space. He was isolationist for centuries for fuck's sake. He can't handle all of the shit going on around him, his own feelings, plus all the attention you're giving him and expecting to get back in return. He hasn't been open to anyone—"—I hadn't been opened to anyone—"like this before in his life. He knows your feelings. He has fucking ESP for that kind of shit. He's just stuck in this kind of limbo where he doesn't know what to put his mind to first, to what's most important. Duty has always come before love in his life. He's in shit-deep currently, and you just keep piling on more crap for him to bear. Before long you'll just…" He took a deep breath before continuing, because, goddamn, his rants were long-winded. "just break him."

Yao blinked, his eyes widening. He looked down into his lap to hide his guilty expression. "Oh… I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Yeah," Lovino said almost scathingly. "And I bet you never paid any fucking mind to it when you took him over."

Yao glared up at him and was so close to punching him, so close… right in his goddamn mouth. "Hard to tell when he was always avoiding me. And may I remind you at one point he wasn't the friendliest neighbor either, húndàn."

Lovino knew Yao must have said some kind of curse—he spat it enough for it to be one—but he chose to ignore it for the time being, because he knew he'd struck a rather tender spot in the otherwise stoic Chinaman and that was plenty enough for him. "Che, whatever. I could care less about your fucking history. But I don't want Kiku to turn into some fucking nutjob and go all batshit crazy on us because you mentally cracked him. We already have that fucking ticking time bomb of a Russian bastard, and who knows what Alfred might do next to piss him off?"

Yao felt another curse burning in his lungs, but he held it down. He was getting advice and Lovino—of all people—was kind enough (yeah right) to be giving it to him. He should be grateful (as if) for it. "How will he know not to take it as some sort of rejection?"

Lovino snorted. "I didn't say you had to fucking sleep in separate tents or something, dammit. You can still sleep together but not sleep together. You follow me?"

"Somewhat."

"Before long his head will be cleared and he'll be missing your presence," Lovino finished matter-of-factly. "And then you'll get a good screw. Count on it."

Yao wrinkled his nose at Lovino's vulgarity, but suspicion was churing in his gut. "What for?"

"What?"

"What you do this for?" Yao asked. "Giving advice. You never do it. You want something. What?"

Lovino smirked. Ah, so it hadn't slipped past Yao. Figures. Lovino was so used to giving advice to Toni, that he hardly ever made sure to thoroughly cover up his ulterior motives. The man had been an airhead, but an endearing airhead. "I know that Japanese pervert didn't leave his home without some proper toys. Find me his best and hand it over."

Yao was aghast. "I-I'm sure Kiku would never—"

Lovino gave a withering sigh, already tiring of this conversation… which should rightfully be well over by his standards. "Just get me the fucking toy, and you can keep the advice. Just don't fuck it up."

Yao scoffed and turned away to eye Kiku, who, luckily, hadn't stirred or heard a thing. He had fallen asleep. Poor thing, he was probably so exhausted from all the thoughts running around in his head. And the fact that Yao had caused some of that pain dealt a fierce stab at his heart. He would take Lovino's advice, no matter how unreliable, because he had nothing else to work with at the moment and he kept running into walls every way he turned.

He just hoped it wasn't too late.

Translations:

красивый-beautiful

húndàn-asshole

A Word From the Writer: God, this is starting to sound like Hetaoni. Did not intend to write it that way, but the whole 'running out of time' thing just moved its way up to be the puppet master of this story. But I made this puppet master-I can take it out. Then again... nah, adds too much angst and sexual tension to completely remove it. Dunno if I will scale back on it going off of that fact, but whatever. China wants some ass before he dies. You get it, I'm sure (and I hope you get he wants more than simply that 'cause I don't feel like explaining. This day has officially drained me. That's what you get from hanging around screaming kids all day, but, hey, gotta get them graduation hours somehow. Some were cute, though. All the ones that didn't talk). And what's up with England being all pissy? Must be on his manstrual.

Christmas is almost here and I believe I've been posting this fic since March. I've been writing it for much longer than that, but... 38 weeks? Damn, I'm surprised I was patient enough to keep this up. But, of course, who can deny messing around with Hetalia boys? Also, if this fic was a baby (which it is to me) it would be overdue and tearing its way out of me like the 82-chapter beast it is (ow). I wonder if I'll make it to 100? LOL, I don't really know how many chapters I have until I organize them before posting. I basically write, then when I see a change of scene or a transition of mood, I'll go down a couple of lines, just in case I want to start a chapter with that bit, and keep writing. I don't even name the chapters until just before posting, because I have to gather all these different transitions up into a single chapter that makes sense and has something going on in it, so I don't really have an idea of what a good title for it would be until I do that. I'm just a hot mess. This fic is pushing 508 pages, by the way, and my other document that has all of my Hetalia ideas/uncompleted/one-shot/completed fics (not counting SatEotW-wow, that's a long-ass acronym) is 1,125 pages. I wonder how much one document can take before I kill it with words. Challenge accepted. =.=