Hetalia Kink meme part 15

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hetalia kink meme
part 15

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Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
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Fortress [4a/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Alfred tried to ignore the urge to scratch his neck as he walked happily along Chestnut Street, a respectable three feet or so behind Adams and Jefferson who were linked arm in arm, heads bowed together as they discussed, him.

He couldn't though, not after so long under Arthur, Arthur who wouldn't let him see Matthew, who had made it very clear very long ago, when Matthew first came to live with them, that Matthew was not to be bullied or worse, subjected to coquetry, as Arthur had put it. Not that the Empire had stopped him. No, Matthew and he were something no one would or could understand, not Arthur, not France and sometimes, Alfred suspected, not Matthew himself. Sometimes the other nation would look at him with a slight apprehension, seemingly nervous, and it was those eyes Alfred could swear he was feeling.

“Young master Jones, are you quite well?” Alfred stopped abruptly, almost knocking into a vaguely concerned looking John Adams, before smiling brightly, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“Yes sir, just, just thinking.”

“About what, if I may be so bold as to intrude upon your thoughts?” Jefferson rarely took personal interest in Alfred, usually only pausing to ask him what he thought of his new swivel chair or if he though the violin piece he'd just played was too melancholic for a summer's day, so Alfred blinked slightly before answering.

“My brother,” he admitted, “I thought I saw him about.” Jefferson and Adams both looked slightly to either side as if they were somehow able to magically divine what Alfred's unnamed brother looked like.

“Does he live in Philadelphia?” Jefferson asked, prompting them all to start walking again. “Are you from here?”

“We lived farther north when I was growing up,” Alfred said, “and now Matthew,” he paused, frowning as he realized he didn't actually know where Matthew was living. “Matthew may well be in London now, with our-his” he stressed his correction, “guardian.”

“So he's a Tory,” Adams said flatly and Alfred bristled slightly, shaking his head.

“Mattie is just young,” he said hotly, forgetting himself briefly, “he needs guidance and right now I cannot,” he pursed his lips together at having to admit his current failing, “I cannot provide it.”

“So if he is not in London where would he be?” Jefferson looked uncharacteristically interested.

“Maybe he has returned to Quebec, if Arthur allowed it.” Adams and Jefferson raised their eyebrows at that.

“Quebec? You are French?” Alfred gave a mildly affronted look at that, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, “but Matthew is.” The two men's faces firmly told him he was to explain himself and Alfred shrugged.

“Our family is complicated,” Alfred said, “Arthur is my brother and Matthew's guardian, while Matthew's actual brother, Francis, was almost my guardian and,” he gesticulated helplessly, “it is complicated.”

The two med nodded in agreement, Adams patting Alfred's shoulder. “No need to explain further,” the man said, “we are expected back at congress very soon, we shall be late if we dawdle any longer.” Alfred nodded, glad to be rid of prying humans and Jefferson and Adams picked up their pace, leaving Alfred behind them.

Fortress [4b/?]

[(Anonymous)]

“Good explanation Alfred,” the soon to be country turned to his twin, not at all surprised to see him lounging in the alley way, hair tied loosely back, wearing neither his usual waistcoat nor cravat. “So you are leaving.”

“Yes,” Alfred said firmly, “you should come.”

“No,” Matthew replied firmly, “I should not,” he eyed Alfred critically, lips pursed and eyes hard. “This is,” he shook his head, “I cannot believe you.” He quickly turned and started walking back down the alley, only for Alfred to grasp his shoulder, not wincing despite the fact Alfred's knuckles were white. “Let go of me Mr. Jones.” Alfred did not comply, instead managing to squeeze tighter, relishing the quite click and crunch of bones under pressure.

“Matthew,” he said softly, all traces of sweet country boy gone, “do not walk away from me.” Matthew jerked out of his grasp, squaring his shoulders despite the pain he was in and turned only slightly, enough for Alfred to see the mixture of hatred and hurt on his pale face.

“And why ever not?” he demanded hotly, “it's what you're doing to me.” Before Alfred could reply Matthew was gone, out the other end of the alley and down the street. Alfred stood there, cloaked in shadow, fingernails cutting grooves in his palm, before he slowly headed toward the congress house. Eventually Matthew would come to his senses, or Alfred would do it for him.