Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED

[hetalia_kink]

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Rainy Night (3b/?)

[anonymous]

When he was satisfied that Canada’s hair was as dry as it was going to get, he pulled the towel away, pausing to smooth down the wild flyaway mop. Canada tried to glare, but Cuba could only respond with a pitying chuckle. He wiped the towel across Canada’s face, glad to hear the little laugh from the other country.

“Mejor,” he said with a smile. He handed Canada the pile of clothes. “Here. I’m not sure if they’ll fit, but at least they’re dry.”

“Thank you,” Canada murmured, accepting the clothes. He picked up the sweatshirt and paused, glancing up at Cuba hesitantly. Cuba could see the tinge of embarrassment in his violet eyes, apparently despite their long relationship.

Suppressing a sigh, he reached over and pulled the wet sweatshirt up. Canada pacified and helped Cuba pull off the sodden sweatshirt and then the T-shirt underneath. Then, Cuba insisted on helping him into the tan sweater. It was almost comically huge, practically slipping off of one pale, skinny shoulder. Cuba smiled and pulled the collar up to his neck. His hands slipped down to the button of his pants.

Canada squirmed and tried to push Cuba’s hands away.

“Sh,” Cuba said comfortingly, stroking the top of Canada hand. “We’ve gotta get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.” Canada relaxed and let Cuba peel off his jeans, exposing his pale, skinny legs. He was wet, shaking, covered in goosebumps and red blotches. It was probably the least erotic sight of Canada in his underwear Cuba could remember.

Canada grabbed the pair of jeans and pulled them on over his bare legs. Even buttoned and zipped up, they hung so loosely around his stomach that he could probably fit another Canada in there.

Fully dressed, Canada slumped back in the sofa and shut his eyes. Cuba slid back onto the sofa and pulled Canada into his arms. He pressed the coffee into Canada's hands, holding the still freezing fingers to the warm mug.

“Now,” he whispered against Canada’s ear. “Do you want to tell what happened, Canadá?”

Canada was quiet, curling closer to Cuba’s body. Cuba let go of the mug and wrapped an arm around Canada’s shoulder. “Por favor, Canada, you can talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Canada said finally. “I just had a fight with America. That’s all.”

Cuba sighed. “Querido, I found you more than two thousand kilometers away from home, sitting out in the pouring rain. That’s not` all.” Cuba kissed the side of Canada’s forehead. “Please tell me.”

Canada took a deep shuddering breath and clutched his coffee cup tighter. “Okay,” he said faintly. “I-This morning America showed up at my house.”

Captcha: prussian connec. I don't think so, captcha.