[fic] Become One With Canada (Hetalia; PruCan) 25/30+
[listens to Hetalia Drama-CD to get inspiration to finish the next chapter] Fiiiiiiiight-OH!
Oktoberfest 2010 part 2
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Prussia/Canada, Germany/Italy
Word count: around 2000
Genre: fluff
Rating: worksafe-ish
Note: I hope the presence of an OC in this chapter won't offend anyone. I've tried to make his appearance as brief as possible, without losing the purpose of his appearance (I'm not too fond of OCs myself, y'see ^^;).
---
Canada had decided to take it very careful with the drinking the first evening. That plan worked for about one hour, before he was suddenly grabbed hold of and pushed down onto a bench beside Prussia, who handed him a pint with the urgent request to “at least outdrink Italy and I’ll deal with West, okay?” and then rose his voice to bellow out over the gathered crowd; “Okay,shall we get this started then, guys, or are we just gonna sit here and stare at the beer all day!?”
Before Canada even knew what was happening, he was chugging down beer to the sound of the crowd cheering. On the opposite side of the table, Italy was sipping on a glass of his own, scrunching up his face as he attempted to up his tempo, while Germany seemed to have opened some kind of dam in his throat and was pouring one pint after another down it. Canada stared. Could a person really drink that fast, he wondered? Or was Germany simply just not quite as human as the rest of them? Could the influence of their people do something like that? Did Germans really love beer that much?
He reminded himself to ask Prussia about it later, before he took a deep breath through his nose and doubled his own efforts to drink faster. He should be able to out drink Italy, at least, and he didn’t want to be even more of an embarrassment to his protégé - lover, he added in his mind; he had decided to switch to calling Prussia as such officially the moment the others in G-20 had approved of his independence - than he already had.
Upon glancing at Prussia, however, he almost choked. Because Germany wasn’t the only one who could open up a secret pipe in his throat exclusively for beer, it seemed. Before his eyes, Canada saw Prussia down a whole pint in less than five seconds.
No way.
A third bird took its residence on top of Prussia’s head.
These people… couldn’t be for real.
Across the table, Italy slumped forward after having finished his first pint. He groaned a little and looked at Germany with big, teary eyes. The blond man shook his head in a “not now Italy” gesture, and the small brunette pouted. Canada watched the whole exchange over the top of his third pint, and realized that the dizziness in his vision wasn’t solely to blame on his glasses sitting askew. He was beginning to feel the alcohol already. But glancing first at Prussia, then at his eight empty glasses, motivated him to reach for a fourth one of his own.
In the end, Germany and Italy won with nineteen and a half to seventeen. Canada had had six. Italy only ever finished that first one.
---
When the clock struck midnight, Prussia was drunk to the point where his arm around Canada’s shoulders was far from light anymore, and his legs were rather unstable, but his mood was as bright as ever. Despite the loss against his brother earlier, even. He convinced Canada he “wasn’t some girl that needed to be babied” before he stumbled towards the bushes, and in his own dazed state, he didn’t bother to protest much. Instead, he went and bought himself the biggest hot dog he’d ever seen - a Frankfurter, he reminded himself; not a hot dog - and sat down in the outskirts of one of the smaller tents to wait for Prussia to come back.
It took some time for his to register that someone was talking to him, a voice he didn’t recognize calling out a bit too loudly a bit too close to his ear, and he jumped and almost dropped his Frankfurter in his lap. The person beside him laughed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that.” It was a young man around his own (physical) age; dark hair and glimmering blue eyes swam into his line of view as he squinted through the dark. He wasn’t wearing the same kind of outfit as most of the other men at the celebration, and Canada was rather relieved to not find himself being addressed by someone who’s legs he’d have a very hard time not staring at during the whole conversation.
“Oh, um,” he stuttered. “It’s fine. I was just surprised.”
The stranger smiled and raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
“Well, I’m not used to people being able to… see me…”
And then, suddenly, he realized how absurd it was that this man had sat down to talk to him at all. That he’d been able to spot Canada in a crowd. To most people, that alone was a feat worthy of some kind of reward.
The next thing that came to mind was the lack of the German tongue in the man’s speech. Canada narrowed his eyes and took a second look at the other, closer this time.
“You’re a tourist?” he asked.
“Not quite. My dad is German but my mom’s Canadian, actually,” he said. “My name’s pretty weird because of it; have you ever heard of anyone called Evan Hirsch before?”
Ah, that explained it. Canada’s smile turned warm, and he leaned in slightly - perhaps even a bit more than he would have if he hadn’t been influenced by the alcohol, but he barely noticed the difference himself, and the stranger didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s not that bad,” Canada said. “I like it.” It reminded him of New Prussia. Of him and Prussia.
“Heh. And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you a tourist? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
Canada shook his head. “I’m here with my… close friend and his family,” he said, uncertain about how open one should be about the nature of his and Prussia’s relationship in a place like this, even when talking to one of his own. Or, half his own. Probably not too open, he figured. “I’m actually from Canada, as well,” he finished.
“Hey, I knew there was something familiar about you!” Evan said happily. “That’s great, mate! How are you liking Germany? What’s your name, by the way?”
Canada nodded. “Matthew Williams. And it’s been a very nice stay.”
He had to admit it; though he had a lot of fun hanging out with Prussia, Germany and Italy, trying out different brands and having every new tent presented to him, the history of that brew explained to him, he enjoyed being able to just sit here with Evan, chatting about his own home and comparing the two nations’ culture to one another. It was relaxing, and for a while he even managed to forget his embarrassment over his state of dress.
Until Evan moved even a little but closer and placed his hand on Canada’s naked knee that was. At first, Canada just stared at the limb, blinking slowly and letting whatever he’d been saying trail off.
“I’m really happy I met you here, Matthew,” Evan mumbled, leaning in a bit further. “I feel… strangely calm with you, I can’t quite place it. And you look fantastic in your lederhosen, too.”
Canada opened his mouth, but didn’t manage to get anything out. Him, fantastic? In these pants?
No, wait, that wasn’t the issue…
“What do you way to you and me getting out of here, sweetheart? I can tell you’ve had enough of smelly Germans and sausage, and I’ve got-“
The fist to Evan’s face silenced him quite effectively and sent him flying backwards over the table. Canada stared at the empty space where the man had been seated, before he turned his face slowly towards his savior, and found himself with an eyeful of furious, heaving Prussia. His hair stood on end, and the birds which had accompanied him during the evening seemed to have flown off to new masters.
“The fuck you will!” Prussia growled. “Keep your fucking paws of my man, y’hear me? Fucking hurensohn, who the shit do you think you are? You should learn to respect your fatherland’s property, schwein!”
Evan, who was groaning from his location somewhere around ground level on the other side of the table, didn’t seem to have a coherent answer right away, and Prussia apparently wasn’t to be in the mood to wait for him to recover either. He grabbed Canada’s arm and pulled him along away from the tent, then past the next one, and the next one, until they’d cleared then entire festival area and walked along the road towards his and Germany’s house. Canada walked after him and tried to keep up with his fast paced stride as good as he could, but the alcohol in his system, along with the confusion over the abrupt ending to the previous conversation - as well as the sudden turn the conversation had taken - left him off balance and when he stumbled over his own feet, he ended up with his face in Prussia’s back.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” he said.
Prussia stopped and turned around so suddenly that Canada hadn’t even found the time to pull back yet, and instead he found himself staring into Prussia’s chest from a very close distance. That was, until Prussia had grabbed him again and pressed him into said chest.
Canada bit his lip. Prussia had been worried, he figured, since he’d been gone a rather long time, and probably weren’t too happy find his host nation being chatted up by some guy. Worse was; from his point of view, it probably hadn’t looked like Canada had had that much against Evan’s advances. He had to be honest; the feeling of comfortableness had been mutual. Before Evan had exposed his true intentions, that was.
Yes, the albino had every reason to be angry with him, he thought, and that realization kept him frozen in the other’s grip, until Prussia drew a deep breath and pulled back.
“What the hell’re you apologizing for?” he said, his voice rough with alcohol and fury.
“For… I don’t know,” Canada said, not daring to look up.
“I should be the one apologizing,” the ex-nation continued. Now, Canada looked up, honestly surprised.
“You…?”
“Shouldn’t’ve left ya alone like that, even if I were ‘bout to throw up n’ show my not so awesome side,” he continued, turning his head to the side. “Y’don’t know how some people can get when they’ve had one or two or three Bitburgers too many. And with you looking like that…” He hesitated, glancing at Canada before he raised one hand to scratch the base of his neck. “So, I’m sorry.”
Canada might not be very good at interpreting Germany’s expression, but Prussia he knew well enough to be able to make out a blush even in the weak light from the street lamps.
“With me looking like what?” he asked. Things were finally beginning to fall into place for him; Italy’s comments earlier in the day; Prussia’s suddenly odd behavior; the looks he’d been receiving from most everyone around him… Prussia’s unwillingness to stay at a further distance than one foot from him… and then finally Evan’s inability to - quite literally - keep his hands off him.
There really seemed to be something about lederhosen that hit an odd spot inside the Germans.
“Like. Like that,” Prussia explained with a vague gesture to the blond’s lower body.
Canada smirked, all thoughts of the fight and his own responsibility in it forgotten.
He’d gotten his fright for the night, as well as fair share of ‘real beer’, as his protégé - lover - liked to put it, and both the thrill of danger, which begun to set at a tickle in the pit of his stomach once he didn’t have to worry about Prussia being angry with him anymore, and the alcohol, helped to make him bolder than normal. Despite standing in the middle of a lit street, he raised his arms and curled them around Prussia’s shoulders, pulling the ex-nation’s mouth to his.
When he allowed the albino to pull back, he was still smiling.
“You know… I really am not used to these kinds of clothes. It was an awful hassle to get them on, even with Italy’s help. I think I could really use some help to get them off again,” he said.
Prussia smirked right back.
“Lucky for you you’ve got the amazing me, then.”
Canada nodded. “Very lucky for me,” he agreed.
---
Previous | Next
End note: hurensohn - son of a bitch (German) | schwein - swine (German).
Oktoberfest 2010 part 2
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Prussia/Canada, Germany/Italy
Word count: around 2000
Genre: fluff
Rating: worksafe-ish
Note: I hope the presence of an OC in this chapter won't offend anyone. I've tried to make his appearance as brief as possible, without losing the purpose of his appearance (I'm not too fond of OCs myself, y'see ^^;).
---
Canada had decided to take it very careful with the drinking the first evening. That plan worked for about one hour, before he was suddenly grabbed hold of and pushed down onto a bench beside Prussia, who handed him a pint with the urgent request to “at least outdrink Italy and I’ll deal with West, okay?” and then rose his voice to bellow out over the gathered crowd; “Okay,shall we get this started then, guys, or are we just gonna sit here and stare at the beer all day!?”
Before Canada even knew what was happening, he was chugging down beer to the sound of the crowd cheering. On the opposite side of the table, Italy was sipping on a glass of his own, scrunching up his face as he attempted to up his tempo, while Germany seemed to have opened some kind of dam in his throat and was pouring one pint after another down it. Canada stared. Could a person really drink that fast, he wondered? Or was Germany simply just not quite as human as the rest of them? Could the influence of their people do something like that? Did Germans really love beer that much?
He reminded himself to ask Prussia about it later, before he took a deep breath through his nose and doubled his own efforts to drink faster. He should be able to out drink Italy, at least, and he didn’t want to be even more of an embarrassment to his protégé - lover, he added in his mind; he had decided to switch to calling Prussia as such officially the moment the others in G-20 had approved of his independence - than he already had.
Upon glancing at Prussia, however, he almost choked. Because Germany wasn’t the only one who could open up a secret pipe in his throat exclusively for beer, it seemed. Before his eyes, Canada saw Prussia down a whole pint in less than five seconds.
No way.
A third bird took its residence on top of Prussia’s head.
These people… couldn’t be for real.
Across the table, Italy slumped forward after having finished his first pint. He groaned a little and looked at Germany with big, teary eyes. The blond man shook his head in a “not now Italy” gesture, and the small brunette pouted. Canada watched the whole exchange over the top of his third pint, and realized that the dizziness in his vision wasn’t solely to blame on his glasses sitting askew. He was beginning to feel the alcohol already. But glancing first at Prussia, then at his eight empty glasses, motivated him to reach for a fourth one of his own.
In the end, Germany and Italy won with nineteen and a half to seventeen. Canada had had six. Italy only ever finished that first one.
---
When the clock struck midnight, Prussia was drunk to the point where his arm around Canada’s shoulders was far from light anymore, and his legs were rather unstable, but his mood was as bright as ever. Despite the loss against his brother earlier, even. He convinced Canada he “wasn’t some girl that needed to be babied” before he stumbled towards the bushes, and in his own dazed state, he didn’t bother to protest much. Instead, he went and bought himself the biggest hot dog he’d ever seen - a Frankfurter, he reminded himself; not a hot dog - and sat down in the outskirts of one of the smaller tents to wait for Prussia to come back.
It took some time for his to register that someone was talking to him, a voice he didn’t recognize calling out a bit too loudly a bit too close to his ear, and he jumped and almost dropped his Frankfurter in his lap. The person beside him laughed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that.” It was a young man around his own (physical) age; dark hair and glimmering blue eyes swam into his line of view as he squinted through the dark. He wasn’t wearing the same kind of outfit as most of the other men at the celebration, and Canada was rather relieved to not find himself being addressed by someone who’s legs he’d have a very hard time not staring at during the whole conversation.
“Oh, um,” he stuttered. “It’s fine. I was just surprised.”
The stranger smiled and raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
“Well, I’m not used to people being able to… see me…”
And then, suddenly, he realized how absurd it was that this man had sat down to talk to him at all. That he’d been able to spot Canada in a crowd. To most people, that alone was a feat worthy of some kind of reward.
The next thing that came to mind was the lack of the German tongue in the man’s speech. Canada narrowed his eyes and took a second look at the other, closer this time.
“You’re a tourist?” he asked.
“Not quite. My dad is German but my mom’s Canadian, actually,” he said. “My name’s pretty weird because of it; have you ever heard of anyone called Evan Hirsch before?”
Ah, that explained it. Canada’s smile turned warm, and he leaned in slightly - perhaps even a bit more than he would have if he hadn’t been influenced by the alcohol, but he barely noticed the difference himself, and the stranger didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s not that bad,” Canada said. “I like it.” It reminded him of New Prussia. Of him and Prussia.
“Heh. And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you a tourist? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
Canada shook his head. “I’m here with my… close friend and his family,” he said, uncertain about how open one should be about the nature of his and Prussia’s relationship in a place like this, even when talking to one of his own. Or, half his own. Probably not too open, he figured. “I’m actually from Canada, as well,” he finished.
“Hey, I knew there was something familiar about you!” Evan said happily. “That’s great, mate! How are you liking Germany? What’s your name, by the way?”
Canada nodded. “Matthew Williams. And it’s been a very nice stay.”
He had to admit it; though he had a lot of fun hanging out with Prussia, Germany and Italy, trying out different brands and having every new tent presented to him, the history of that brew explained to him, he enjoyed being able to just sit here with Evan, chatting about his own home and comparing the two nations’ culture to one another. It was relaxing, and for a while he even managed to forget his embarrassment over his state of dress.
Until Evan moved even a little but closer and placed his hand on Canada’s naked knee that was. At first, Canada just stared at the limb, blinking slowly and letting whatever he’d been saying trail off.
“I’m really happy I met you here, Matthew,” Evan mumbled, leaning in a bit further. “I feel… strangely calm with you, I can’t quite place it. And you look fantastic in your lederhosen, too.”
Canada opened his mouth, but didn’t manage to get anything out. Him, fantastic? In these pants?
No, wait, that wasn’t the issue…
“What do you way to you and me getting out of here, sweetheart? I can tell you’ve had enough of smelly Germans and sausage, and I’ve got-“
The fist to Evan’s face silenced him quite effectively and sent him flying backwards over the table. Canada stared at the empty space where the man had been seated, before he turned his face slowly towards his savior, and found himself with an eyeful of furious, heaving Prussia. His hair stood on end, and the birds which had accompanied him during the evening seemed to have flown off to new masters.
“The fuck you will!” Prussia growled. “Keep your fucking paws of my man, y’hear me? Fucking hurensohn, who the shit do you think you are? You should learn to respect your fatherland’s property, schwein!”
Evan, who was groaning from his location somewhere around ground level on the other side of the table, didn’t seem to have a coherent answer right away, and Prussia apparently wasn’t to be in the mood to wait for him to recover either. He grabbed Canada’s arm and pulled him along away from the tent, then past the next one, and the next one, until they’d cleared then entire festival area and walked along the road towards his and Germany’s house. Canada walked after him and tried to keep up with his fast paced stride as good as he could, but the alcohol in his system, along with the confusion over the abrupt ending to the previous conversation - as well as the sudden turn the conversation had taken - left him off balance and when he stumbled over his own feet, he ended up with his face in Prussia’s back.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” he said.
Prussia stopped and turned around so suddenly that Canada hadn’t even found the time to pull back yet, and instead he found himself staring into Prussia’s chest from a very close distance. That was, until Prussia had grabbed him again and pressed him into said chest.
Canada bit his lip. Prussia had been worried, he figured, since he’d been gone a rather long time, and probably weren’t too happy find his host nation being chatted up by some guy. Worse was; from his point of view, it probably hadn’t looked like Canada had had that much against Evan’s advances. He had to be honest; the feeling of comfortableness had been mutual. Before Evan had exposed his true intentions, that was.
Yes, the albino had every reason to be angry with him, he thought, and that realization kept him frozen in the other’s grip, until Prussia drew a deep breath and pulled back.
“What the hell’re you apologizing for?” he said, his voice rough with alcohol and fury.
“For… I don’t know,” Canada said, not daring to look up.
“I should be the one apologizing,” the ex-nation continued. Now, Canada looked up, honestly surprised.
“You…?”
“Shouldn’t’ve left ya alone like that, even if I were ‘bout to throw up n’ show my not so awesome side,” he continued, turning his head to the side. “Y’don’t know how some people can get when they’ve had one or two or three Bitburgers too many. And with you looking like that…” He hesitated, glancing at Canada before he raised one hand to scratch the base of his neck. “So, I’m sorry.”
Canada might not be very good at interpreting Germany’s expression, but Prussia he knew well enough to be able to make out a blush even in the weak light from the street lamps.
“With me looking like what?” he asked. Things were finally beginning to fall into place for him; Italy’s comments earlier in the day; Prussia’s suddenly odd behavior; the looks he’d been receiving from most everyone around him… Prussia’s unwillingness to stay at a further distance than one foot from him… and then finally Evan’s inability to - quite literally - keep his hands off him.
There really seemed to be something about lederhosen that hit an odd spot inside the Germans.
“Like. Like that,” Prussia explained with a vague gesture to the blond’s lower body.
Canada smirked, all thoughts of the fight and his own responsibility in it forgotten.
He’d gotten his fright for the night, as well as fair share of ‘real beer’, as his protégé - lover - liked to put it, and both the thrill of danger, which begun to set at a tickle in the pit of his stomach once he didn’t have to worry about Prussia being angry with him anymore, and the alcohol, helped to make him bolder than normal. Despite standing in the middle of a lit street, he raised his arms and curled them around Prussia’s shoulders, pulling the ex-nation’s mouth to his.
When he allowed the albino to pull back, he was still smiling.
“You know… I really am not used to these kinds of clothes. It was an awful hassle to get them on, even with Italy’s help. I think I could really use some help to get them off again,” he said.
Prussia smirked right back.
“Lucky for you you’ve got the amazing me, then.”
Canada nodded. “Very lucky for me,” he agreed.
---
Previous | Next
End note: hurensohn - son of a bitch (German) | schwein - swine (German).