Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED
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hetalia kink meme
part 9
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( Christmas Reveals )
The DVD originally belonged to France, but Canada hasn’t had a chance to ship it back to his wayward father figure. He’s almost forgotten about it, right up until America fishes it out of the pile of DVD cases sitting below the player, and then Canada wants to sink into the floor. But America just laughs.
“Fucking machines,” America reads off of the back, blue eyes bright with mirth. He glances at Canada, grin stretching a little wider, and then returns to the casing. “Watch as these women are-oh wow, now that’s a kink I haven’t heard of. Did you see this?”
“A little.” The truth is usually the best course with America, no matter how embarrassing. “It didn’t really do much for me. I mean. Not that it would, anyway. Not that… oh, shut up,” he adds crossly when America starts to chuckle.
Canada thinks that’s the end of it, but then he looks over again and America is leaning forward and pushing the DVD into the player. He must make a noise, because America’s head turns, chin tucking against his shoulder-and isn’t that a sight, Canada’s inner voice murmurs, his brother’s ass in the air and knees spread, the small of his back made bare as his t-shirt rides up-and he quirks a smile. “What? I thought we’d watch it together.”
“Okay,” says Canada, because yeah. Yeah, he could do that.
(He’s going to combust from ulcers or something, he just knows it. His brother’s sex appeal is going to give him ulcers. It’s really not fair. It’s not fair, and Canada might be in love with the jerk, too.)
Still, because it’s polite, Canada goes to get some cookies and pretzels. He arranges them on a tray and carries them back to the living room, pausing only momentarily at the trussed up woman on the television screen. America is watching intently, his knuckles shoved against his mouth in an effort to hide its twitches; it’s kind of cute, and enough that Canada relaxes. It’s not the first time they’ve watched porn together since he’s figured out America’s hobby.
(It’s just the first time that it’s his porn, and it’s not even really his, so it doesn’t matter, right? Right.)
And for a while, it’s fun. They lean against each other on the sofa, feet tucked up on the cushions, and share the snacks as they watch. America tries to keep a straight face, but more often than not a strangled giggle escapes him, and Canada has to struggle not to smile in response. When the music tracks switch, they both give into snickers. The room is warm, dark, and comfortable. There’s no one else that could make Canada feel at home doing something this intimate and stupid with company, like it’s something to be shared, to be enjoyed in a normal way. Canada thinks to himself: I really might be in love with him.
This thought occupies him so much that Canada almost doesn’t notice when it gets quiet.
But it does.
Occasionally, America lets out a short bark of laughter-but Canada’s known his brother long enough to hear the undercurrent of nervousness in it. He sneaks glances at his brother, noting the slight flush at the back of America’s neck, the way he’s biting his bottom lip every few minutes. The uneasy shifts. How his hands can’t stay still. On the screen, the machine drill drones below the whimpered pleas of its latest victim, and off screen, right next to Canada, America is-
Oh, Canada thinks, eyes widening. Oh.
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