Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 2/?
anonymous
September 3 2010, 06:20:01 UTC
“You’re a genius, Mattie!” He claps his hands together and is already sprinting back into the sitting room to retrieve his phone. Canada picks himself up muttering under his breath and ignores the “who are you again?” that comes from his bear. He hears his brother talking to Tony and is almost dreading what they’re cooking up together. He tidies up the room, folding America’s yukata and slowly starts to unpack his things. It’s only 10 PM local time but he feels like he’s been awake forever. He stops to consider it and realizes that he normally would have been in bed 6 hours ago. They’d shared America’s private jet to cut down on expenditures and with the nine hour flight... Canada shakes his head. They don’t really need the sleep per se but it would be nice to clear his head.
He blinks as he looks at the long coffee table and gift basket he swears wasn’t there when they arrived. It looks more like a helping of what one would find in a love motel and he sighs. It’s one of the most poorly kept secrets that most of their true negotiations take place under the sheets but he’d have thought Japan would have been far more subtle about acknowledging it. He unties the souvenir obi and yukata. They might as well just call it “Orgy 2011”, he thinks as he examines the various flavors of lube and condoms. At least they're taking precautions to prevent unwanted immigration.
American looks up brightly. “Don’t ask too many questions,” Don’t worry, Al, I really don’t want to know... “But the package will be here tomorrow morning. Tony’s got just the thing to put old pedo in his place.” Canada refrains from pointing out he seriously doubts that England is actually a child molester in the true sense of the word. He merely nods and goes into the bedroom thankful that Japan had given them one of the western style rooms. The two beds had given him pause, but America’s cheerful declaration of things being “just like old times” led him to believe they could make it work. And tonight it doesn’t look like England will even make it back to the room. He’s not sure why exactly Japan had reserved a ryokan that can’t accommodate their lot without a lot of room sharing, but then again he doesn’t notice the cameras that have been strategically placed in every room either.
---
Although a part of him was appalled they had skipped the introductory meetings and presentations of the first day, another part of him was thankful they didn’t need to go through the tedious “getting to know you” nonsense that was mostly redundant. Of course he hardly says as much to America. “You know, these meetings are important to make sure that we always stay connected-” ‘Pssh, like everyone doesn’t already know who I am.” I was thinking more likely you don’t know more than half of them on sight, Canada had thought with annoyance as they boarded the first bus. The entire morning had been miserable, from the harrowing experience of trying to navigate the bus and train line without speaking a word of Japanese beyond a few words he used in the bedroom with Japan -and America seemed to think speaking English louder and slower would magically make everyone understand him- to the police officers eying them as if they were truant students as they explored Shinjuku.
They’re twelve fucking years old, did he forget to mention that part?
America’s mysterious package had showed up as promised and after a western style breakfast served in their room he’d eagerly torn it open. “A phaser?” were the first words out of Canada’s mouth when he eyed the mysterious device. America had rolled his eyes at that as he fondled the “not weapon” eagerly. “Oh it’s a weapon alright, a weapon of awesomeness!” Canada had been about to ask what on earth it was for when America turned it on him and fired.
Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 3/?
anonymous
September 3 2010, 06:23:24 UTC
“Nnngh!” His eyes were wide and he felt as if every molecule in his body was being squeezed until it bursts. He folded in on himself, knees buckling, breathless, unable to so much as scream while America watched him with a mixture of curiosity and geeky excitement. “So yeah the way it works, at least according to Tony, is that it compresses everything in your body down in size, even on a molecular level. I asked him why he couldn’t just make us younger instead and he reminded me that our brains would be similarly affected- whoa, you really don’t look so good.” I hope he doesn’t throw up. That’d be gross. “Anyway,” he continued on blithely as even as Canada sank to his knees shaking. “He had no idea what that’d do to our brains so instead he sent the next best thing. This here transmogrifier will compact out bodies down to the right size: took some serious calculations ’cause y’know we could’ve ended up as midgets but I think he got it. Only thing that sucks is you’re still gonna weigh 170lbs; you’re just a lot more dense. Displacing matter and all that, yknow?” Canada couldn’t help but be impressed by the easy grasp of any sort of science fiction-esque science.
He looked up at America panting, adding this to his ever growing list of things he never wanted to experience again. America met his expression with a rather pleased one of his own. “Dude, you look perfect! Seriously, a pedo’s wet dream.” Canada glared at him as he shakily rose to his feet, the boxers now far too big for his body falling off his hips. He had to crane his neck to look up -God, had he really been that short when he was younger?- and then snatched the device from America’s hand, a nasty smirk on his face as he fired on his twin. He probably took more delight than was necessary as he watched him writhe and seize but dammit, that really fucking hurt! He was also oddly fascinated as the transformation finished and soon America once again stood at his own height. He held his hand up in a high five and Canada stared dumbly for a moment “C’mon, bro, don’t leave me hanging!”Canada sighed and reluctantly indulged him, wincing at the sharp sting. “Phase one of Operation Pedobrows complete!”
Phase two had apparently consisted of spending half the day in Shinjuku looking for a certain type of outfit as America had called it. It was bad enough they ended up borrowing clothes from Sealand - who was all too happy to get in on any plot again “jerk England”- but actually buying those weird kodona clothes was almost too much. Weren't they in the middle of a recession? “So tell me again, Al, what exactly is the plan?” The bus ride is hardly smooth as they exit the highway and travel up the old mountain pass. America sighs as once again he explains to the other what really in his mind is quite simple. “It’s a piece of cake, Matty. First we change into these clothes here,” he shakes one of the large bags at his feet, “’Cause they’re seriously a pedo’s wet dream.” Canada ticks off another number in his “how many times Al says ‘pedo’” count. “And then we start a fight.” He leans in with a smirk lowering his voice dramatically. “A sexy clothes ripping half naked fight, that is. He’ll be putty in our hands after we give him the ride of his life.”
Canada blinks a few times and then just sort of stares at him for awhile his expression completely blank. “So… let me get this straight,” he says at last. “The plan… the brilliant “revenge on England” plan… is to seduce him, and then ride his dick til his eyes roll back into his head?” America’s bright expression doesn’t falter in the slightest. “Oh yeah, that’ll show him,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Matty,” America says his smile turning to a smirk. “We use this as a chance to get everything he’s been cockblocking us on and more. Remember the Iroquois passports? He still hasn’t done shit about them, has he? Turks and Cacaos? He’ll probably annex you half the Caribbean if you play your cards right.” And as America continues, far from stupid, the idea begins to take on a sort of malevolent brilliance. He laughs softly as the bus continues its bumpy trip mentally adding a few more concessions he wouldn’t mind seeing from the former British Empire.
Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 3/?
anonymous
September 3 2010, 09:37:33 UTC
Pffffft, what the hell, Alfred? ♥ ... "Operation Pedobrows" should be canon, seriously. Maybe Alfred named all his suspicious "just in case" anti-British Empire stuff during that time period when he had all sorts of military plans against the UK and the colonies "just in case they were needed".
*waves at the strangely familiar author!anon, just in case!*
Re: author!anon
anonymous
September 3 2010, 10:50:17 UTC
*waves back* I dunno how familiar I am; I've only done like 2 other fills ^^; Just wanted to say the mental pictures that this comment gave me are priceless. I keep picturing a giant wooden chest of rolled up plans on parchment complete with unflattering pictures and diagrams...
Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/SKorea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 4a/?
anonymous
September 4 2010, 01:13:26 UTC
America is definitely glad that he had the foresight to get a few cheeseburgers to go when they had stopped at McDonald’s earlier. By the time they get back it’s already past dinner and half the conference has apparently been looking for them. At least that’s what he hears France whisper sotto voce as he runs into him in the hallway. It’s strange to be mistaken for a British Territory, especially Montserrat -he’s half native with a perpetual cough for christssake- but it could be worse; he could be Canada. “Have you ever thought of joining the French Collective, mon petit chou?” France asks him with a smile that’s not entirely innocent and America is terribly tempted to see what concessions he might be able to wring from him instead.
A subtle kick from Canada brings him back to the present and he stammers a beautifully acted turn down. He pokes his head inside the door of the banquet hall as they wait outside for their “victim” allowing France to make his exit. England seems completely sober tonight and America finds himself debating whether or not that’s a good thing. He steps back, leaning against the wall looking at Canada. “Still eating, but he should be done soon,” he reports and Canada nods. As they wait, he takes the time to admire the striking picture the two of them make. His twin is innocence personified in the grey knickers and white shirt. The matching grey vest and cravat complete the ensemble and the white stockings are too perfect. They decided to forego the shoes lest Japan have a fit. America is similarly adorned and as Canada looks over at him somewhat nervously he can’t help but admire how well the outfit suits him. America insisted on a jaunty newsboy cap that reminds him of the artful dodger.
Canada squirms somewhat uncomfortably as he feels the slight wetness between his legs. It might have been his suggestion to prepare in advance but did America really have to use so much lube? “There’s no such thing as too much lube, bro,” America informed him cheerfully as he squeezed what felt like half the fucking tube up his ass. He yelped at the cold. “Whoops. Probably shoulda warmed it first, huh?”America’s expression was sheepish and he leaned up and kissed his brother on the lips, oddly chaste considering his fingers were working their way inside his ass. “Is… is Kiku going to be okay with this” Canada asked suddenly, the question coming out breathless as America stretched and prepared him. “Huh?” blue eyes blinked curiously as he continued to stretch the hole. Maybe we can take a little break to mess around… “Y-your boyfriend,” he hissed as America added a third finger. “Oh that! Dude, he’s not my boyfriend, we just fuck around. He’s kinky as shit,” the blonde added thoughtfully. “You good or should I try four?” Canada somehow managed to shake his head even as his knees trembled. “N-no… it’s… it’s good.” He had to shake the fuzz from his head as America stopped and it was only after a moment of laying there catching his breath that he got to his knees and prepared him in kind.
Canada squirms again as America looks inside. “Is he coming?” he asks looking around nervously. His brother shakes his head and he sighs. “He’ll be coming soon enough though,” America snickers at the joke. Canada smirks. He’ll worry about feeling guilty later. Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard, but a reminder of England’s constant forgetting set something alight that perhaps was better left untouched. “I bet he’ll come in me first, too,” America declares, the statement met with an answering snort. “You always did have too high an opinion of yourself.” “Oh please. If he even remembers your cute little ass is there I’ll eat my hat.”
Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/SKorea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 4b/?
anonymous
September 4 2010, 01:14:39 UTC
They both hear the footsteps and almost panic. Well, America did leave him a good opening... “Yeah? Well how about you eat it now, eh?” And with that he pounces. America as always hadn’t actually heard him and was caught off guard when he was suddenly tackled to the ground. He recovers fast, however and flips the two of them over easily. “Ha! You gotta wake up pretty early to get one over on me.” he grins down and then remembering their fight slaps him across the face. Operation Pedobrows Phase 3 is a go, he thinks triumphantly before Canada reaches up and grabs his vest, wedging a knee between them and flipping him over. Fuck! I forgot how strong he is... America is on his feet in an instant and once again the two lock horns like two young bucks fighting for mating rights.
Re: France/Spain/shota!America & China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 5/?
anonymous
September 4 2010, 01:19:17 UTC
“England is mine, canuck!” America yells remembering to put on a good show and Canada growls- a rather kittenish sound really considering their smaller bodies- and with a fistful of hair wrestles him back to the ground. “In your dreams, yank!” America rips the cravat and a few buttons from the vest and Matthew thinks- as he slaps at his brother’s head- that this is actually somewhat therapeutic. He’s careful to keep the smile off of his face, however and it occurs to him as America flips them and sits on his chest that England sure is taking a long time to come out of the banquet hall…
His eyes widen as he looks over America’s shoulder and catches a glimpse of France. Shit, he was supposed to be long gone! “Al-“ He squeaks out far too late. “C’mon Mattie you can’t give up now, we- Hey!” His legs kick uselessly in the as a rather effective hold is executed on him from behind. Canada can’t help but be impressed by France’s strength but a part of him supposes that it only makes sense considering just how old he is. “What is this? Two beautiful young men should be making love not fighting.” “Dammit, Francis, let go!” Alfred hisses as Matthew rises in defeat. “We’re right in the middle of-“ “Ahh, but I’m afraid that Angleterre has already deserted us.”
“What?!” France releases him and America shoves his head inside the doors blinking stupidly. “Where is he?!” He cranes his neck to look up as if he might personally be responsible for this wrench in their plans. France shrugs thoroughly unapologetic. “That I cannot say, but it is for the best perhaps that he escapes your darling little clutches tonight, non?” He shoots both of them a knowing look though neither look particularly ashamed. If anything they seem somewhat confused that their ploy has been so effectively uncovered.
At this the hall is filled with the sound that infamous oh hon hon hon laughter. “Ah, children, children,” he looks at them still laughing. “Ah, you really are children now aren’t you?” He strokes America’s hair affectionately watching him bristle at the thought of their plans being thwarted. Canada however, looks away at that moment catches China approaching. An improvisation forms at that moment; it’s one of his specialties after all. Maybe this will work out even better. He makes sure America is paying attention as he speaks. “Yeah... guess so. Kinda like that movie ‘Strangers on a Train’, right?” He sees the flicker in America’s expression at the reference and he sees the faint smirk as understanding dawns. “Gotta love that Hitchcock.” He schools he expression neutral again mouthing a quick “I’ll take care of this for you.”
More often than not, Canada and America are on the same wavelength and when they work together they’re unstoppable. The old Hollywood drama is at the forefront of America’s thoughts. Commit each other’s murders huh? He watches as Canada turns and feigns a stumble crashing right into China before he himself turns back to France. “Guess ya caught us, huh?” he says looking down feigning embarrassment. “Were we really that obvious?” The childish voice only serves to enhance the effect: something he could never hope to pull off as an adult. It looks like he’ll have his chance to play this game with France after all.
(After this part it branches into what are really 2 simultaneous scenes so from here on out I'll post them each in their own linear piece so there's no constantly switching back and forth. Thanks!)
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 6a/? (Canada)
anonymous
September 4 2010, 22:42:54 UTC
And here begin the fate of the two Amrica twins *snickers*. Thought I'd post the first bit for each to kick start things. Probably will slow down to work on other fills as well.
Canada can feel the butterflies as he falls to his knees, quickly babbling his apologies in his usual soft voice being sure to speak in Standard. He’s heard China’s English accent before and it’s utterly atrocious. China rises slowly, grumbling about the lack of respect for elders, not even hearing Canada speak. He looks down with a small smile. It’s been awhile since he’s seen a proper kowtow. “Hmm, I don’t know you,” he answers bluntly and Canada smiles inwardly. Perfect. “I’m one of Englands,” he murmurs softly forcing the other to lean closer to hear him. And it’s technically true if China wants to argue the point later. “People don’t usually see me around at these things.” Again, totally accurate. China helps him to his feet. His hands are warm and soft.
Canada looks up and turns on the shy smile that France swears seduces him anew every time they come together. The somewhat shuttered countenance in front of him relaxes slightly. Score. He spares a brief glance and sees America run a teasing finger down France’s chest. Perhaps they won’t get England tonight, but if they succeed here, it’ll be a cakewalk later on. “Are you alright, wansui?” Canada asks, letting their hands remain locked together just a little longer than appropriate. China laughs at the title, distracted from the contact. He pats Canada’s shoulder fondly. “Ah, heavens I’m not that old yet!” Nor is he an emperor, but he can’t help but be flattered nonetheless.
“But you do have such a long and amazing history,” Canada says doing his best to appear completely guileless. His hand moves to China’s forearm, his fingers lightly brushing the pale skin. He watches those slender brows knit as if trying to assess his intent. Canada has never been more thankful to have such a large number of his children to draw knowledge from. “I’d love to hear it.” He sees the scrutinizing gaze. It isn’t often for nations to engage in negotiations with China of this nature. He watches the shift in those golden eyes and the thinly veiled shrewd countenance excites him as he considers.
When China looks into his eyes and sees the peatlands of manitoba and the forests of British Columbia he knows him instantly. One of England’s own indeed.And yet he doesn’t seem to realize how easily I know him. It’s easy to remember in the face of such untried and naïve youth what it was like to be so young. He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift too long however for tonight it seems he has a game to play that he hasn’t gotten to enjoy in quite some time . Canada seems to has taken his silence as possible rejection and decides he needs to be more forward: well, Canada forward. “If you should fall asleep… I would sooner cut your sleeve than wake you.” China doesn’t allow himself to show reaction at the reference tot he old poem.Bold, child, he thinks as he places his hand over the smaller one on his forearm. He feigns ignorance, a trait he’s accustomed to amongst the western nations. Sometimes he lapses into pidgin english to make England made and America underestimate his intelligence. “Aiyah, I should hope not, this is one of my favorites.” He shakes his sleeve expressively forcing Matthew to let go. His confusion is obvious and China remains determined to keep him off balance: at least for now. He won’t commit until the other lays a lot more on the line. I’m not Japan, child, you’ll realize that soon enough.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 7a/? (Canada)
anonymous
September 6 2010, 03:34:10 UTC
“Ah, where to begin,” he muses to himself as he starts to walk. “Come, come, I’ll begin at the beginning then.” Canada follows and he begins his tale. He’ll let Canada sort out fact from fiction. “I was born the second son to Emperor Ku. My name at birth was Taotang Shi. When I ascended the throne I was reborn Tang Yao. I don’t really remember when they begun calling me Wang Yao... perhaps during the warring states period?” he mumbles to himself thoughtfully. Canada swallows involuntarily as China takes himself on a small reminiscent road trip though the Zhou Dynasty. It strikes him in this moment how old he really is despite his youthful appearance and Canada has never felt so young and immature. Five hundred years suddenly seems like nothing; and really, he had become a nation so young it was all he could remember and had remained a child for so long after being reborn. No wonder they see us as so young; we really are. But that doesn’t mean that we’re the children they think we are.
China looks over and catches “the look” as he’d coined it (although South Korea claims that he was the first one to start calling it that). That look a young nation gets when truly realizing for the first time exactly how old China is; India and Ethiopia claim to get it too from time to time. It used to bother him but now he merely smiles and continues on with the history lesson as they approach his room. “I think I was around 119 by the time Yu Shun decided that I’d really ruled long enough and had me imprisoned. They tried to execute me as well, but I returned the next day as if nothing happened.” He sees that the Canada is hanging on his every word and he turns with a hidden smirk as he unlocks the door. “That was when I met Ramirez, and realized what I truly was. We are all destined to fight and kill each other, until there is only one. We call this the quickening.”
The door opens and China’s face is so grave and serious that Canada can’t help but look at him horrified. China can only hold the expression for so long however before he begins laughing softly at first but steadily growing more boisterous and Canada realizes that the old bastard was talking about fucking "Highlander". He wonders as he watches him exactly how much of that story was even true, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. China is nearly doubled over incoherently gasping about the look on his face and how young nations will believe anything their elders tell them. The sour put upon expression only makes it worse and he has a steadying hand on the doorway so he doesn’t fall over.
It occurs to him as China finally catches his breath and closes the door behind them - good, none of the other occupants are here- that it’s the perfect way to go about doing this. Yeah, keep underestimating me, eh? You can’t possibly know I’m Canada. And you have no idea of the trick or two that I’ve come up with in the last five hundred years. A further glance around the room while China collects himself indicates that they’re alone. He wonder if it will stay that way. He takes a quick stock of everything there, mind a constant whirl of just how he’s going to pull this off.
China regards him with a completely unreadable expression as he catches him studying the space. Canada fidgets under the scrutiny but remains calm. If he can succeed in obtaining China’s seal on the contract then he can create an agreement absolving America of his debt. He’ll owe me so big I might even be able to get a few concessions from him of my own. Of course he has every confidence in America’s ability to manipulate France and get those waters around Saint Pierre and Miquelon back. “I won’t be disturbing your roommates, will I?” he asks at last. He doesn’t need North or South Korea sticking theirs noses in where they don’t belong, and if he recalls correctly Myanmar should be here as well. China shakes his head fixing him with another one of those odd looks. “No, they shouldn’t be in tonight.”
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 8a/? (Canada)
anonymous
October 2 2010, 18:35:28 UTC
Good. Good, that makes it easy. if it’s just him I can do this. Alone in the room with him, Canada definitely feels the butterflies but dammit, he’s not going to be the one that chokes. He gives China a shy smile. “I... I’m glad. I guess it’s selfish of me but I’m glad it’s just the two of us.” He closes the distance between them and is about to reach out and attempt more physical contact- because even he knows that the more touching the closer he can get- and almost falls flat on his face when China suddenly manages some otherworldly maneuver and sidesteps him maintaing that perfectly oblivious facade. “Aiyah! Then we need food for company!” he exclaims going to fill the electric teapot next to what has to be an illegal hot plate in the large sitting room.
Canada shifts awkwardly trying to formulate a plan. Dammit, Al has it easy. Anyone can take their stupid clothes off and seduce France but what am I supposed to do with Yan Can Cook?! Canada doesn’t notice the amusement on China’s face as he glances discreetly in his direction. China definitely intends to keep him off balance and as he starts pulling snacks out of a seemingly endless fridge, he considers again what Canada’s game could be. If anything their relations have been strained in the last few years and there’s no reason for the sudden interest. Ah, but he’s not “Canada” now, is he? Of course the guise leaves even less room for explanation except the silly line he’s been feeding him.
China is thoughtful as he rummages through the fridge. The only british territory that he could possibly be mistaken for would either be Montserrat or the Falkan Islands. Monserrat has had a chronic cough since 1995 and Canada hasn’t coughed once. But surely, as close as he is to England he’d have to know that he and the Falkan Islands are... close. Too close for the territory to ever be found alone in another’s room like this. This wasn’t planned then, China realizes and he fixes the plates with an upbeat humming. Canada doesn’t jump into things recklessly... so there’s something else I’m missing. He compartmentalizes that and turns his attention back to his guest. “Ah, where are my manners? Sit sit,” he gestures to the large kotatsu table and the zaisu around it. He silently rebukes himself for the double word usage again, feeling one of those small flashes of anger at England and the rest of the damn imperialists for that simpering hiccup in his speech pattern when speaking Standard since the 1800s.
Canada obeys, keeps one eye on the older nation at all times, bottom lip between his teeth in a contrived uncertain gesture. He’s learned how to make his nervousness work for him. He’s never done this before exactly, but he’s no stranger to quiet subtle seduction. As he sits back, he shifts his body just so, feeling the torn fabric of the white shirt fall off his left shoulder right as China raises his eyes from where he’s placed the tray. He doesn’t allow his face to betray anything but then again, neither does China. And so it begins, they think at the same time
Canada looked at the fruits and nuts on the tray and sought out the lone peach thinking it must be some sort of divine intervention. China watches him take it. So you’re getting serious now, are you? He takes a plum, enjoying the slight tang of its skin and listens for the water for the tea to finish heating. “Mmm,” Canada sighs happily, exaggerating the look of bliss at the sweetness of the fruit. They’re not in season and really he’s had better, but he fixes his violet eyes on China and holds the fruit out, small tongue deliberately slow to lick the juice from his mouth. “It’s so sweet,” he explains looking shy. “You should have the rest,” Canada finishes, his expression so unknowingly expectant China almost pities him.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 9a/? (Canada)
anonymous
October 2 2010, 18:42:49 UTC
And this is where I, like the ruler of Wei reply “How sincere is your affection for me! Forgetting your own appetite and thinking only of giving me good things to eat!” Ah, how naive! Clever, but I’m not biting just yet. China’s eyes are big and he waves it away just as the timer on the kettle beeps. “Oh no I couldn’t, those things give me hives!” Of course they don’t but Canada doesn’t need to know that and watching the twitch, and clear signs of aborted seduction he laughs as he stands. China offers no explanation as he goes to fix the tea and Canada practically glowers at the half eaten fruit when his back is turned. Does he know? Is this just another one of his stupid mind games or does he really suspect? Canada fidgets where he sits, planning and improvising. Okay so mimicking the stories of a thousand years ago isn’t doing it. Maybe he should take a page from America’s book after all.
“Here, let me,” Canada insists on serving the tea when China sets it down, making sure to shoot him a meaningful across the table as he does so. China breaks the gaze almost immediately claiming that he feels like he has something on his face. Canada resists the urge to slam his head on the table only barely when he rises to get a mirror and check. Oh god this isn’t working! His eyes make another sweep of the room getting more desperate to find something. He sees a comb resting on an end table and when he hears China mumble to himself about the state of his hair it’s all he can do not to jump up. Remaining calm, Canada feigns a nervous start as China continues to fiddle with the damn mirror. “I... I would be honored to comb it for you.” As China sets the mirror down curiously, he follows Canada’s attention to the jade comb in question. He feels almost bad deciding to exclaim. “No! Oh no no no, that’s Yong Soo’s comb! There’s no telling what he’d do if he smells me on it!” He looks almost panicked and bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t laugh again when Canada almost falls over. Ah, poor thing, you’re still a thousand years too early to defeat me.
He looks far too serene as he sips his tea and Canada, hands balled into fists in his lap swears this is all on purpose now. Alright, you want to play this your way? Okay I can do that. He forces himself to be still, to smile politely and demurely even as he raps the challenge out. “Then... may I tell you a story lao shi?” He makes sure to keep some form of honorific; there’s no harm in flattery after all. He waits and even behind the teacup, China’s face is shrewd and calculating as he turns to watch the fireflies flickering in the darkness outside. He’s already put all the pieces of the puzzle together far faster than the Canada can create them. He’s played this game far too many times and for too many years to be fooled. The young little fly might have markings on his wings like a predator, but this old spider can detect prey. He smiles deciding it might be fun to play along and see what trap he tries to spring.
“And what story would you tell me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. Gotcha! Canada smiles wider now, giving himself a slight bounce of enthusiasm where he kneels. “I would tell you a great tale, lao shi, one that even you have never in your life heard before.” He knows how bold the statement is, but he has time, and he has spent that time observing in ways that only one who is as invisible as the wind can do. He can sense that China is intrigued even if he has figured it out and he feels his heart flutter, his adrenaline pumping, heart racing with excitement when he hears the soft laughter. Canada’s going to get that seal and he’s going to do it right in front of him without even having to sleep with him. You’ll be so caught up, you won’t even know what hits you when you put your hand to the paper.
China nods, his expression excited and open as if he really believes this is nothing more than an evening’s entertainment. “Great! It would be amazing if you really did! I’d give you free dinners for a week in any Chinatown!” He laughs but Canada stands feeling triumph within his grasp seizing on the opening like a starving animal.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 10a/? (Canada)
anonymous
October 2 2010, 18:55:58 UTC
“Ah, you don’t have to give me anything but your attention,” He replies humbly. Canada licks his lips, forcing himself not to stare. England always told him when he’d fix the full intensity of those violet eyes on him it was unnerving. If anything, China too is equally eager and matches the expression. So now we come to it, do we? Alright, let’s see it. “Sure sure,” he waves a dismissive hand as he takes another sip of tea. As if he were once more Tang Yao granting favors to the court.
This is your last bid, isn’t it? China thinks to himself as Canada takes a deep breath. I look forward to it then. Whatever it is, he can tell that it won’t be so easily brushed aside with feigned obliviousness and as rarely as such thoughts come to him anymore, there’s an odd thrill at even the possibility of allowing himself to be seduced by the not so young nation. He wasn’t entirely honest, however, because while North and South Korea are out they won’t be out for much longer; almost if by magic the door swings open.
Canada nearly falters as he sees them enter. Like China, they too refused to acquiesce to the festive yukata instead dressed in traditional hanbok. North Korea walks behind his brother, a mirror of the louder nation with a red durumagi instead of blue, a pair of thick black glasses perched on his nose. Canada hadn’t thought it was a particularly festive occasion but it seems they have a point to prove. North Korea is engrossed in a book somehow mirroring his twin’s steps without looking up. They take little notice of him and Canada regroups and refocuses. I've come this far and dammit I’m not gonna lose to Al. I can do this even with them in here. Whatever it takes I can do this. He’d trick the seal out of China in front of the entire Asian Development Bank if he had to.
“Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?” China asks still looking at Canada. The two twins look anywhere but at the elder. “Wǒ bù zhī dào…” Comes from South Korea. China sighs. “Forget it,” he says in Standard for Canada’s benefit. “Tonight we have a guest anyway.” His eyes are bright. “He’s going to tell us a story we’ve never heard.” “Ha!” Yong Soo sits on Yao’s right helping himself to his tea. “Story telling was invented in Korea. It’s not happening.” North Korea stands on China’s left looking uncomfortable. “Ge ge...” He whispers softly averting his gaze. “In standard, please,” China insists smacking South Korea’s hand sharping with a silver teaspoon. North Korea swallows and shifts from one foot to another. “Supreme Leader set out a schedule for me so I really should be going to bed now.” South Korea snorts and China ignores him. He turns and takes North Korea’s hand.
“It was very considerate of him to do so, Jung Soo,” he states with a careful indulgence, “But you’re in my care while we’re here and I’ll decide whether or not we make adjustments to the schedule.” He smiles, but the steel underlying his tone is unmistakable. North Korea nods and takes a seat at China’s left. “You know that’s all he wanted to talk about all day is that stupid schedule!” South Korea complains. “Why doesn’t he tell you when to pee while he’s at it?” Missing the sarcasm entirely, North Korea reaches beneath the jeogori and pulls out a sheet of folded paper from where it was held by the tie around his chest. “I think toilet is at Nine...” “Ohmygod Gimme that!” South Korea snatches the paper and proceeds to shred it viciously while his brother, face ashen grabs for it looking terrified. “What are you doing?!” Canada can’t help but notice even yelling the voice is soft like his own and he’s wondering if he’ll even be able to do this when China puts a warning hand up. “Enough.” He says and they both fall silent.
“We have a story to hear so stop being rude.” He reaches back, pulling a box of sun cakes from seemingly out of nowhere and set it on the table. “Aren’t these-” “Shh!” South Korea shushes his brother. There is no Taiwanese food, only Chinese food -don’t you dare forget it when China’s around- and sometimes his brother has the tact of North Italy on a bender. Unwrapping the cakes, they all watch, and with time to regroup Canada is much more sure of himself. He straightens up, addressing the entirety of the room.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 10a/? (Canada) NOTES
anonymous
October 2 2010, 19:29:25 UTC
Notes:
Monserrat had a volcanic eruption in 1995 that forced inhabitants to flee. The eruption is still going on on a much smaller scale and inhabitants are attempting to rebuild other areas
A story goes that in ancient times Mizi Xia won the favor of the ruler of Wei. In one story the two men were walking in an orchard and Mizi Xia took a bite of a peach and gave it to his ruler half eaten because it was so sweet he wanted to share. This also ties into the title; Love of the Half Eaten Peach” is a coy reference to homosexuality.
Lao Shi is a way of saying teacher though literally it means “old teacher”. The wansui that Canada used earlier was used traditionally with Emperors and means “ten thousand years”
Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?- Where is Myanmar?
Wǒ bù zhī dào…- I don’t know...
durumagi is the festive overcoat worn on certain occasion over the jeogori.
Supreme Leader refers to Kim Jong Il current leader of North Korea
Since human names are used in this and North Korea is the only one featured in the story who doesn’t have one I had to improvise. Jung Soo seemed primarily female at first but then I came across a football player with that name so there you go.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 11a/? (Canada)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:46:56 UTC
“There once was a noblewoman as rich as Liu Jin who, like him, believed that all that glittered was gold. One night she dreamt that she had given all her wealth to the gods and was given in turn a stairway to the heavens.”
He spreads his arm in a fantastic arc as if in the dream himself. He has to think quickly, filtering the words, know if he’s not careful they’ll know exactly what the hell he’s talking about. But hell, Canada couldn’t think of a faster story than to adapt the famous rock ballad and so help him he’s going to do this or die trying. “The golden stair stretched out in front of her and she ascended with all the grace of Zhao Ban and smiled brilliantly for she knew that the stars themselves were smiling upon her.” Canada walks slowly around as if mesmerized by a brilliant sight and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he goes on. “And when she reached the top of that great stair all of heaven bright and golden stretched out before her. And she found that she was denied nothing: her every heart’s desire.”
He watches them to make sure they’re watching him. They are. You can do this. You can show them you’re more than Al’s shadow. They underestimate you but you’ll get them. Invisible, he’s always been a chameleon. Canada has always been able to pass for whatever he tried to be. Tonight he’ll seduce them like a perfect innocent child turned red hot siren; they won’t even see it coming. “And even the signs around her read that this was truly the great kingdom of legend and that here she would eternally be granted that which was her deepest heart’s desire.” Canada smiles at the lot of them a rather coy and naughty expression as he continues. “Ah, but even that which is carved in stone can have two meanings...” Oh and they seem just a bit interested now but he’s only getting started.
“For even as she believes everything around her that her eyes behold there’s a songbird who calls to her from the other side of a dazzling stream to come near so that he may better sing her praises.” Canada shakes his head, and begins to slowly take of his socks and ah, now he sees their interest perking up far more. He’s done a sleazy strip club routine a few times at America’s insistence but this has to be more elegant and practiced and ensnare every last one of them so he can pull this off. And not for the first time in his existence he thanks god that his fellow nations don’t just see the body but his geography as well because he might be in young human form but there are so many hundreds of miles of unmolested wilderness and large tracts of land that any nation would be hard pressed to resist. And the youthful appearance only makes him seem that much more fresh and undeveloped and he can see it in their eyes and suddenly he isn’t quite so jealous of America’s much larger population: that slut.
“Barefoot, she wades through the stream, cautious of her fine silks and hairclips, the cold water lapping around her.” And he looks at them and god he knows it’ll give him away but they won’t be expecting it and he doesn’t want to mess this up. He knows his geography is beautiful and as the second largest landmass it’s vast and damn erotic and his job just isn’t as easy as America’s so screw it. “And yet when she stopped midway in the shallow clear water she looked to the west feeling lacking. And she could feel her spirit cry out for her leaving.” And as he talks he approaches the table and one hand is already on that ridiculous cravat undoing it slowly, his small fingers twining through the silky material as he deftly unties it and drops it onto the ground with a heavy look of those violet eyes as he continues to speak making sure that every last one of them watches as he describes the rings of smoke through the trees that force his protagonist to caress her throat feeling as if she cannot breathe and oh doesn’t it make you wonder, he asks.
Re: China/N Korea/S Korea/shota!Canada Love of the Half Eaten Peach 12a/? (Canada)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:48:03 UTC
And as he says that he lets his fingers trail down his throat and they can all three of them see those long digits, the great lakes joining America ghosting over the taiga, the permafrost and cool hollow of his throat and oh the expanse of open wilderness is alluring, isn’t it? “And the journey grows harder,” he makes sure to emphasize harder, he doesn’t give a damn how blatantly pornographic that sounds ‘cause when he catches North Korea’s eyes, he can see the isolated nation, so deprived of foreign relations eying him like an oasis in the desert and dammit if only it were he and not China that was the goal this would be- Well why not? he asks himself wildly. God knows what America would love to have from North Korea and it wouldn’t exactly be hard. All three of them, yes! He’s going for it. “The journey grows harder because she can hear the melody of the piper calling to her to cast off all her worldly entrapments and she just… can’t… resist.”
And right then he lowers his head, glancing at each of them in succession over the rims of Quebec as they watch his fingers unbutton that torn and scuffed shirt, slowly shrugging the fabric off one slender shoulder. He’s got North Korea and yet he can see China, stupid China as unreadable as ever from behind the raised teacup and South Korea as well looking curious as if he has in fact heard this story before but just can’t put his finger on it. But you’ve never heard it like this because it’s never been told like this and I know exactly what will distract the lot of you. And he turns, speaking of a new day dawning for her as she stands tall and he lets that shirt slip from both his shoulders and lets them glimpse his smooth unblemished back and the continuation of the Rockies, the Appalachians, the plains that are just as great as America’s in their own right and high populations might appeal to some nations but he can hear it as if it were the lot of them breathing heavily right into his ear because Canada has his scars but he can still keep them safely tucked away and look just as new and fresh as the day of his ascension.
“And she reaches it, that bird and reaches out to grab,” he looks over his shoulder and sees them watch him and he discreetly undoes the buttons of the short knickers where they can’t see, his left hand already raised as he reaching out. “A bustle in the hedgerow startles her as the great bird that her fingertips touch turns to fine grains of sand and flows down her arm.” He bows his head, using an old trick to see behind him through the light glinting off the thick non coated frames and they’re watching still, more intently and he whirls and snaps that hand up with a wide, wild smile, forcing the emotion of the song because it’s been playing in his mind the entire time and that guitar solo is approaching the melody and the tempo that he just loves.
And Canada turns, nearing them all, letting those damn knickers slip from his hips and he’s never been more thankful that America didn’t insist on the stupid underwear too because right now there’s nothing stopping them all from glimpsing Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island as he steps out of the gray garments pooled on the floor. “There are two paths that we choose, yes?” And he bends over drawing the lines on the table, moving the tray and the tea and letting the magically generated parchment meld into the surface as he unrolls it in an ancient trick that England once taught him so other nations wouldn’t see that secret agreement. And he draws out the golden lines not letting them form to words, kneeling down so those islands are covered and both Atlantic and Pacific are reflected in his eyes. “But all paths intersect just as all crows under heaven are black.” And he dares that gamble and goes not for China but for that damn suspicious South Korea with a small, soft hand cupping the other’s face as he leans in.
He blinks as he looks at the long coffee table and gift basket he swears wasn’t there when they arrived. It looks more like a helping of what one would find in a love motel and he sighs. It’s one of the most poorly kept secrets that most of their true negotiations take place under the sheets but he’d have thought Japan would have been far more subtle about acknowledging it. He unties the souvenir obi and yukata. They might as well just call it “Orgy 2011”, he thinks as he examines the various flavors of lube and condoms. At least they're taking precautions to prevent unwanted immigration.
American looks up brightly.
“Don’t ask too many questions,” Don’t worry, Al, I really don’t want to know... “But the package will be here tomorrow morning. Tony’s got just the thing to put old pedo in his place.” Canada refrains from pointing out he seriously doubts that England is actually a child molester in the true sense of the word. He merely nods and goes into the bedroom thankful that Japan had given them one of the western style rooms. The two beds had given him pause, but America’s cheerful declaration of things being “just like old times” led him to believe they could make it work. And tonight it doesn’t look like England will even make it back to the room. He’s not sure why exactly Japan had reserved a ryokan that can’t accommodate their lot without a lot of room sharing, but then again he doesn’t notice the cameras that have been strategically placed in every room either.
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Although a part of him was appalled they had skipped the introductory meetings and presentations of the first day, another part of him was thankful they didn’t need to go through the tedious “getting to know you” nonsense that was mostly redundant. Of course he hardly says as much to America.
“You know, these meetings are important to make sure that we always stay connected-”
‘Pssh, like everyone doesn’t already know who I am.” I was thinking more likely you don’t know more than half of them on sight, Canada had thought with annoyance as they boarded the first bus. The entire morning had been miserable, from the harrowing experience of trying to navigate the bus and train line without speaking a word of Japanese beyond a few words he used in the bedroom with Japan -and America seemed to think speaking English louder and slower would magically make everyone understand him- to the police officers eying them as if they were truant students as they explored Shinjuku.
They’re twelve fucking years old, did he forget to mention that part?
America’s mysterious package had showed up as promised and after a western style breakfast served in their room he’d eagerly torn it open.
“A phaser?” were the first words out of Canada’s mouth when he eyed the mysterious device. America had rolled his eyes at that as he fondled the “not weapon” eagerly.
“Oh it’s a weapon alright, a weapon of awesomeness!” Canada had been about to ask what on earth it was for when America turned it on him and fired.
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“So yeah the way it works, at least according to Tony, is that it compresses everything in your body down in size, even on a molecular level. I asked him why he couldn’t just make us younger instead and he reminded me that our brains would be similarly affected- whoa, you really don’t look so good.” I hope he doesn’t throw up. That’d be gross. “Anyway,” he continued on blithely as even as Canada sank to his knees shaking. “He had no idea what that’d do to our brains so instead he sent the next best thing. This here transmogrifier will compact out bodies down to the right size: took some serious calculations ’cause y’know we could’ve ended up as midgets but I think he got it. Only thing that sucks is you’re still gonna weigh 170lbs; you’re just a lot more dense. Displacing matter and all that, yknow?” Canada couldn’t help but be impressed by the easy grasp of any sort of science fiction-esque science.
He looked up at America panting, adding this to his ever growing list of things he never wanted to experience again. America met his expression with a rather pleased one of his own.
“Dude, you look perfect! Seriously, a pedo’s wet dream.” Canada glared at him as he shakily rose to his feet, the boxers now far too big for his body falling off his hips. He had to crane his neck to look up -God, had he really been that short when he was younger?- and then snatched the device from America’s hand, a nasty smirk on his face as he fired on his twin. He probably took more delight than was necessary as he watched him writhe and seize but dammit, that really fucking hurt! He was also oddly fascinated as the transformation finished and soon America once again stood at his own height. He held his hand up in a high five and Canada stared dumbly for a moment
“C’mon, bro, don’t leave me hanging!”Canada sighed and reluctantly indulged him, wincing at the sharp sting. “Phase one of Operation Pedobrows complete!”
Phase two had apparently consisted of spending half the day in Shinjuku looking for a certain type of outfit as America had called it. It was bad enough they ended up borrowing clothes from Sealand - who was all too happy to get in on any plot again “jerk England”- but actually buying those weird kodona clothes was almost too much. Weren't they in the middle of a recession?
“So tell me again, Al, what exactly is the plan?” The bus ride is hardly smooth as they exit the highway and travel up the old mountain pass. America sighs as once again he explains to the other what really in his mind is quite simple.
“It’s a piece of cake, Matty. First we change into these clothes here,” he shakes one of the large bags at his feet, “’Cause they’re seriously a pedo’s wet dream.” Canada ticks off another number in his “how many times Al says ‘pedo’” count. “And then we start a fight.” He leans in with a smirk lowering his voice dramatically. “A sexy clothes ripping half naked fight, that is. He’ll be putty in our hands after we give him the ride of his life.”
Canada blinks a few times and then just sort of stares at him for awhile his expression completely blank.
“So… let me get this straight,” he says at last. “The plan… the brilliant “revenge on England” plan… is to seduce him, and then ride his dick til his eyes roll back into his head?” America’s bright expression doesn’t falter in the slightest. “Oh yeah, that’ll show him,” he mutters under his breath.
“You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Matty,” America says his smile turning to a smirk. “We use this as a chance to get everything he’s been cockblocking us on and more. Remember the Iroquois passports? He still hasn’t done shit about them, has he? Turks and Cacaos? He’ll probably annex you half the Caribbean if you play your cards right.” And as America continues, far from stupid, the idea begins to take on a sort of malevolent brilliance. He laughs softly as the bus continues its bumpy trip mentally adding a few more concessions he wouldn’t mind seeing from the former British Empire.
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*waves at the strangely familiar author!anon, just in case!*
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“Have you ever thought of joining the French Collective, mon petit chou?” France asks him with a smile that’s not entirely innocent and America is terribly tempted to see what concessions he might be able to wring from him instead.
A subtle kick from Canada brings him back to the present and he stammers a beautifully acted turn down. He pokes his head inside the door of the banquet hall as they wait outside for their “victim” allowing France to make his exit. England seems completely sober tonight and America finds himself debating whether or not that’s a good thing. He steps back, leaning against the wall looking at Canada.
“Still eating, but he should be done soon,” he reports and Canada nods. As they wait, he takes the time to admire the striking picture the two of them make. His twin is innocence personified in the grey knickers and white shirt. The matching grey vest and cravat complete the ensemble and the white stockings are too perfect. They decided to forego the shoes lest Japan have a fit. America is similarly adorned and as Canada looks over at him somewhat nervously he can’t help but admire how well the outfit suits him. America insisted on a jaunty newsboy cap that reminds him of the artful dodger.
Canada squirms somewhat uncomfortably as he feels the slight wetness between his legs. It might have been his suggestion to prepare in advance but did America really have to use so much lube? “There’s no such thing as too much lube, bro,” America informed him cheerfully as he squeezed what felt like half the fucking tube up his ass. He yelped at the cold. “Whoops. Probably shoulda warmed it first, huh?”America’s expression was sheepish and he leaned up and kissed his brother on the lips, oddly chaste considering his fingers were working their way inside his ass.
“Is… is Kiku going to be okay with this” Canada asked suddenly, the question coming out breathless as America stretched and prepared him.
“Huh?” blue eyes blinked curiously as he continued to stretch the hole. Maybe we can take a little break to mess around…
“Y-your boyfriend,” he hissed as America added a third finger.
“Oh that! Dude, he’s not my boyfriend, we just fuck around. He’s kinky as shit,” the blonde added thoughtfully. “You good or should I try four?” Canada somehow managed to shake his head even as his knees trembled.
“N-no… it’s… it’s good.” He had to shake the fuzz from his head as America stopped and it was only after a moment of laying there catching his breath that he got to his knees and prepared him in kind.
Canada squirms again as America looks inside.
“Is he coming?” he asks looking around nervously. His brother shakes his head and he sighs.
“He’ll be coming soon enough though,” America snickers at the joke. Canada smirks. He’ll worry about feeling guilty later. Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard, but a reminder of England’s constant forgetting set something alight that perhaps was better left untouched. “I bet he’ll come in me first, too,” America declares, the statement met with an answering snort.
“You always did have too high an opinion of yourself.”
“Oh please. If he even remembers your cute little ass is there I’ll eat my hat.”
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“Yeah? Well how about you eat it now, eh?” And with that he pounces. America as always hadn’t actually heard him and was caught off guard when he was suddenly tackled to the ground. He recovers fast, however and flips the two of them over easily.
“Ha! You gotta wake up pretty early to get one over on me.” he grins down and then remembering their fight slaps him across the face. Operation Pedobrows Phase 3 is a go, he thinks triumphantly before Canada reaches up and grabs his vest, wedging a knee between them and flipping him over. Fuck! I forgot how strong he is... America is on his feet in an instant and once again the two lock horns like two young bucks fighting for mating rights.
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“In your dreams, yank!” America rips the cravat and a few buttons from the vest and Matthew thinks- as he slaps at his brother’s head- that this is actually somewhat therapeutic. He’s careful to keep the smile off of his face, however and it occurs to him as America flips them and sits on his chest that England sure is taking a long time to come out of the banquet hall…
His eyes widen as he looks over America’s shoulder and catches a glimpse of France. Shit, he was supposed to be long gone!
“Al-“ He squeaks out far too late.
“C’mon Mattie you can’t give up now, we- Hey!” His legs kick uselessly in the as a rather effective hold is executed on him from behind. Canada can’t help but be impressed by France’s strength but a part of him supposes that it only makes sense considering just how old he is.
“What is this? Two beautiful young men should be making love not fighting.”
“Dammit, Francis, let go!” Alfred hisses as Matthew rises in defeat. “We’re right in the middle of-“
“Ahh, but I’m afraid that Angleterre has already deserted us.”
“What?!” France releases him and America shoves his head inside the doors blinking stupidly. “Where is he?!” He cranes his neck to look up as if he might personally be responsible for this wrench in their plans. France shrugs thoroughly unapologetic.
“That I cannot say, but it is for the best perhaps that he escapes your darling little clutches tonight, non?” He shoots both of them a knowing look though neither look particularly ashamed. If anything they seem somewhat confused that their ploy has been so effectively uncovered.
At this the hall is filled with the sound that infamous oh hon hon hon laughter.
“Ah, children, children,” he looks at them still laughing. “Ah, you really are children now aren’t you?” He strokes America’s hair affectionately watching him bristle at the thought of their plans being thwarted. Canada however, looks away at that moment catches China approaching. An improvisation forms at that moment; it’s one of his specialties after all. Maybe this will work out even better. He makes sure America is paying attention as he speaks.
“Yeah... guess so. Kinda like that movie ‘Strangers on a Train’, right?” He sees the flicker in America’s expression at the reference and he sees the faint smirk as understanding dawns.
“Gotta love that Hitchcock.” He schools he expression neutral again mouthing a quick “I’ll take care of this for you.”
More often than not, Canada and America are on the same wavelength and when they work together they’re unstoppable. The old Hollywood drama is at the forefront of America’s thoughts. Commit each other’s murders huh? He watches as Canada turns and feigns a stumble crashing right into China before he himself turns back to France.
“Guess ya caught us, huh?” he says looking down feigning embarrassment. “Were we really that obvious?” The childish voice only serves to enhance the effect: something he could never hope to pull off as an adult. It looks like he’ll have his chance to play this game with France after all.
(After this part it branches into what are really 2 simultaneous scenes so from here on out I'll post them each in their own linear piece so there's no constantly switching back and forth. Thanks!)
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Canada can feel the butterflies as he falls to his knees, quickly babbling his apologies in his usual soft voice being sure to speak in Standard. He’s heard China’s English accent before and it’s utterly atrocious. China rises slowly, grumbling about the lack of respect for elders, not even hearing Canada speak. He looks down with a small smile. It’s been awhile since he’s seen a proper kowtow.
“Hmm, I don’t know you,” he answers bluntly and Canada smiles inwardly. Perfect.
“I’m one of Englands,” he murmurs softly forcing the other to lean closer to hear him. And it’s technically true if China wants to argue the point later. “People don’t usually see me around at these things.” Again, totally accurate. China helps him to his feet. His hands are warm and soft.
Canada looks up and turns on the shy smile that France swears seduces him anew every time they come together. The somewhat shuttered countenance in front of him relaxes slightly. Score. He spares a brief glance and sees America run a teasing finger down France’s chest. Perhaps they won’t get England tonight, but if they succeed here, it’ll be a cakewalk later on.
“Are you alright, wansui?” Canada asks, letting their hands remain locked together just a little longer than appropriate. China laughs at the title, distracted from the contact. He pats Canada’s shoulder fondly.
“Ah, heavens I’m not that old yet!” Nor is he an emperor, but he can’t help but be flattered nonetheless.
“But you do have such a long and amazing history,” Canada says doing his best to appear completely guileless. His hand moves to China’s forearm, his fingers lightly brushing the pale skin. He watches those slender brows knit as if trying to assess his intent. Canada has never been more thankful to have such a large number of his children to draw knowledge from. “I’d love to hear it.” He sees the scrutinizing gaze. It isn’t often for nations to engage in negotiations with China of this nature. He watches the shift in those golden eyes and the thinly veiled shrewd countenance excites him as he considers.
When China looks into his eyes and sees the peatlands of manitoba and the forests of British Columbia he knows him instantly. One of England’s own indeed.And yet he doesn’t seem to realize how easily I know him. It’s easy to remember in the face of such untried and naïve youth what it was like to be so young. He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift too long however for tonight it seems he has a game to play that he hasn’t gotten to enjoy in quite some time
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Canada seems to has taken his silence as possible rejection and decides he needs to be more forward: well, Canada forward.
“If you should fall asleep… I would sooner cut your sleeve than wake you.” China doesn’t allow himself to show reaction at the reference tot he old poem.Bold, child, he thinks as he places his hand over the smaller one on his forearm. He feigns ignorance, a trait he’s accustomed to amongst the western nations. Sometimes he lapses into pidgin english to make England made and America underestimate his intelligence.
“Aiyah, I should hope not, this is one of my favorites.” He shakes his sleeve expressively forcing Matthew to let go. His confusion is obvious and China remains determined to keep him off balance: at least for now. He won’t commit until the other lays a lot more on the line. I’m not Japan, child, you’ll realize that soon enough.
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China looks over and catches “the look” as he’d coined it (although South Korea claims that he was the first one to start calling it that). That look a young nation gets when truly realizing for the first time exactly how old China is; India and Ethiopia claim to get it too from time to time. It used to bother him but now he merely smiles and continues on with the history lesson as they approach his room.
“I think I was around 119 by the time Yu Shun decided that I’d really ruled long enough and had me imprisoned. They tried to execute me as well, but I returned the next day as if nothing happened.” He sees that the Canada is hanging on his every word and he turns with a hidden smirk as he unlocks the door. “That was when I met Ramirez, and realized what I truly was. We are all destined to fight and kill each other, until there is only one. We call this the quickening.”
The door opens and China’s face is so grave and serious that Canada can’t help but look at him horrified. China can only hold the expression for so long however before he begins laughing softly at first but steadily growing more boisterous and Canada realizes that the old bastard was talking about fucking "Highlander". He wonders as he watches him exactly how much of that story was even true, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. China is nearly doubled over incoherently gasping about the look on his face and how young nations will believe anything their elders tell them. The sour put upon expression only makes it worse and he has a steadying hand on the doorway so he doesn’t fall over.
It occurs to him as China finally catches his breath and closes the door behind them - good, none of the other occupants are here- that it’s the perfect way to go about doing this. Yeah, keep underestimating me, eh? You can’t possibly know I’m Canada. And you have no idea of the trick or two that I’ve come up with in the last five hundred years. A further glance around the room while China collects himself indicates that they’re alone. He wonder if it will stay that way. He takes a quick stock of everything there, mind a constant whirl of just how he’s going to pull this off.
China regards him with a completely unreadable expression as he catches him studying the space. Canada fidgets under the scrutiny but remains calm. If he can succeed in obtaining China’s seal on the contract then he can create an agreement absolving America of his debt. He’ll owe me so big I might even be able to get a few concessions from him of my own. Of course he has every confidence in America’s ability to manipulate France and get those waters around Saint Pierre and Miquelon back.
“I won’t be disturbing your roommates, will I?” he asks at last. He doesn’t need North or South Korea sticking theirs noses in where they don’t belong, and if he recalls correctly Myanmar should be here as well. China shakes his head fixing him with another one of those odd looks.
“No, they shouldn’t be in tonight.”
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“I... I’m glad. I guess it’s selfish of me but I’m glad it’s just the two of us.” He closes the distance between them and is about to reach out and attempt more physical contact- because even he knows that the more touching the closer he can get- and almost falls flat on his face when China suddenly manages some otherworldly maneuver and sidesteps him maintaing that perfectly oblivious facade.
“Aiyah! Then we need food for company!” he exclaims going to fill the electric teapot next to what has to be an illegal hot plate in the large sitting room.
Canada shifts awkwardly trying to formulate a plan. Dammit, Al has it easy. Anyone can take their stupid clothes off and seduce France but what am I supposed to do with Yan Can Cook?! Canada doesn’t notice the amusement on China’s face as he glances discreetly in his direction. China definitely intends to keep him off balance and as he starts pulling snacks out of a seemingly endless fridge, he considers again what Canada’s game could be. If anything their relations have been strained in the last few years and there’s no reason for the sudden interest. Ah, but he’s not “Canada” now, is he? Of course the guise leaves even less room for explanation except the silly line he’s been feeding him.
China is thoughtful as he rummages through the fridge. The only british territory that he could possibly be mistaken for would either be Montserrat or the Falkan Islands. Monserrat has had a chronic cough since 1995 and Canada hasn’t coughed once. But surely, as close as he is to England he’d have to know that he and the Falkan Islands are... close. Too close for the territory to ever be found alone in another’s room like this. This wasn’t planned then, China realizes and he fixes the plates with an upbeat humming. Canada doesn’t jump into things recklessly... so there’s something else I’m missing. He compartmentalizes that and turns his attention back to his guest.
“Ah, where are my manners? Sit sit,” he gestures to the large kotatsu table and the zaisu around it. He silently rebukes himself for the double word usage again, feeling one of those small flashes of anger at England and the rest of the damn imperialists for that simpering hiccup in his speech pattern when speaking Standard since the 1800s.
Canada obeys, keeps one eye on the older nation at all times, bottom lip between his teeth in a contrived uncertain gesture. He’s learned how to make his nervousness work for him. He’s never done this before exactly, but he’s no stranger to quiet subtle seduction. As he sits back, he shifts his body just so, feeling the torn fabric of the white shirt fall off his left shoulder right as China raises his eyes from where he’s placed the tray. He doesn’t allow his face to betray anything but then again, neither does China. And so it begins, they think at the same time
Canada looked at the fruits and nuts on the tray and sought out the lone peach thinking it must be some sort of divine intervention. China watches him take it. So you’re getting serious now, are you? He takes a plum, enjoying the slight tang of its skin and listens for the water for the tea to finish heating.
“Mmm,” Canada sighs happily, exaggerating the look of bliss at the sweetness of the fruit. They’re not in season and really he’s had better, but he fixes his violet eyes on China and holds the fruit out, small tongue deliberately slow to lick the juice from his mouth. “It’s so sweet,” he explains looking shy. “You should have the rest,” Canada finishes, his expression so unknowingly expectant China almost pities him.
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“Oh no I couldn’t, those things give me hives!” Of course they don’t but Canada doesn’t need to know that and watching the twitch, and clear signs of aborted seduction he laughs as he stands. China offers no explanation as he goes to fix the tea and Canada practically glowers at the half eaten fruit when his back is turned. Does he know? Is this just another one of his stupid mind games or does he really suspect? Canada fidgets where he sits, planning and improvising. Okay so mimicking the stories of a thousand years ago isn’t doing it. Maybe he should take a page from America’s book after all.
“Here, let me,” Canada insists on serving the tea when China sets it down, making sure to shoot him a meaningful across the table as he does so. China breaks the gaze almost immediately claiming that he feels like he has something on his face. Canada resists the urge to slam his head on the table only barely when he rises to get a mirror and check. Oh god this isn’t working! His eyes make another sweep of the room getting more desperate to find something. He sees a comb resting on an end table and when he hears China mumble to himself about the state of his hair it’s all he can do not to jump up. Remaining calm, Canada feigns a nervous start as China continues to fiddle with the damn mirror.
“I... I would be honored to comb it for you.” As China sets the mirror down curiously, he follows Canada’s attention to the jade comb in question. He feels almost bad deciding to exclaim.
“No! Oh no no no, that’s Yong Soo’s comb! There’s no telling what he’d do if he smells me on it!” He looks almost panicked and bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t laugh again when Canada almost falls over. Ah, poor thing, you’re still a thousand years too early to defeat me.
He looks far too serene as he sips his tea and Canada, hands balled into fists in his lap swears this is all on purpose now. Alright, you want to play this your way? Okay I can do that. He forces himself to be still, to smile politely and demurely even as he raps the challenge out.
“Then... may I tell you a story lao shi?” He makes sure to keep some form of honorific; there’s no harm in flattery after all. He waits and even behind the teacup, China’s face is shrewd and calculating as he turns to watch the fireflies flickering in the darkness outside. He’s already put all the pieces of the puzzle together far faster than the Canada can create them. He’s played this game far too many times and for too many years to be fooled. The young little fly might have markings on his wings like a predator, but this old spider can detect prey. He smiles deciding it might be fun to play along and see what trap he tries to spring.
“And what story would you tell me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. Gotcha! Canada smiles wider now, giving himself a slight bounce of enthusiasm where he kneels.
“I would tell you a great tale, lao shi, one that even you have never in your life heard before.” He knows how bold the statement is, but he has time, and he has spent that time observing in ways that only one who is as invisible as the wind can do. He can sense that China is intrigued even if he has figured it out and he feels his heart flutter, his adrenaline pumping, heart racing with excitement when he hears the soft laughter. Canada’s going to get that seal and he’s going to do it right in front of him without even having to sleep with him. You’ll be so caught up, you won’t even know what hits you when you put your hand to the paper.
China nods, his expression excited and open as if he really believes this is nothing more than an evening’s entertainment.
“Great! It would be amazing if you really did! I’d give you free dinners for a week in any Chinatown!” He laughs but Canada stands feeling triumph within his grasp seizing on the opening like a starving animal.
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“Sure sure,” he waves a dismissive hand as he takes another sip of tea. As if he were once more Tang Yao granting favors to the court.
This is your last bid, isn’t it? China thinks to himself as Canada takes a deep breath. I look forward to it then. Whatever it is, he can tell that it won’t be so easily brushed aside with feigned obliviousness and as rarely as such thoughts come to him anymore, there’s an odd thrill at even the possibility of allowing himself to be seduced by the not so young nation. He wasn’t entirely honest, however, because while North and South Korea are out they won’t be out for much longer; almost if by magic the door swings open.
Canada nearly falters as he sees them enter. Like China, they too refused to acquiesce to the festive yukata instead dressed in traditional hanbok. North Korea walks behind his brother, a mirror of the louder nation with a red durumagi instead of blue, a pair of thick black glasses perched on his nose. Canada hadn’t thought it was a particularly festive occasion but it seems they have a point to prove. North Korea is engrossed in a book somehow mirroring his twin’s steps without looking up. They take little notice of him and Canada regroups and refocuses. I've come this far and dammit I’m not gonna lose to Al. I can do this even with them in here. Whatever it takes I can do this. He’d trick the seal out of China in front of the entire Asian Development Bank if he had to.
“Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?” China asks still looking at Canada. The two twins look anywhere but at the elder.
“Wǒ bù zhī dào…” Comes from South Korea. China sighs.
“Forget it,” he says in Standard for Canada’s benefit. “Tonight we have a guest anyway.” His eyes are bright. “He’s going to tell us a story we’ve never heard.”
“Ha!” Yong Soo sits on Yao’s right helping himself to his tea. “Story telling was invented in Korea. It’s not happening.” North Korea stands on China’s left looking uncomfortable.
“Ge ge...” He whispers softly averting his gaze.
“In standard, please,” China insists smacking South Korea’s hand sharping with a silver teaspoon. North Korea swallows and shifts from one foot to another.
“Supreme Leader set out a schedule for me so I really should be going to bed now.” South Korea snorts and China ignores him. He turns and takes North Korea’s hand.
“It was very considerate of him to do so, Jung Soo,” he states with a careful indulgence, “But you’re in my care while we’re here and I’ll decide whether or not we make adjustments to the schedule.” He smiles, but the steel underlying his tone is unmistakable. North Korea nods and takes a seat at China’s left.
“You know that’s all he wanted to talk about all day is that stupid schedule!” South Korea complains. “Why doesn’t he tell you when to pee while he’s at it?” Missing the sarcasm entirely, North Korea reaches beneath the jeogori and pulls out a sheet of folded paper from where it was held by the tie around his chest.
“I think toilet is at Nine...”
“Ohmygod Gimme that!” South Korea snatches the paper and proceeds to shred it viciously while his brother, face ashen grabs for it looking terrified.
“What are you doing?!” Canada can’t help but notice even yelling the voice is soft like his own and he’s wondering if he’ll even be able to do this when China puts a warning hand up.
“Enough.” He says and they both fall silent.
“We have a story to hear so stop being rude.” He reaches back, pulling a box of sun cakes from seemingly out of nowhere and set it on the table.
“Aren’t these-”
“Shh!” South Korea shushes his brother. There is no Taiwanese food, only Chinese food -don’t you dare forget it when China’s around- and sometimes his brother has the tact of North Italy on a bender. Unwrapping the cakes, they all watch, and with time to regroup Canada is much more sure of himself. He straightens up, addressing the entirety of the room.
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Monserrat had a volcanic eruption in 1995 that forced inhabitants to flee. The eruption is still going on on a much smaller scale and inhabitants are attempting to rebuild other areas
A story goes that in ancient times Mizi Xia won the favor of the ruler of Wei. In one story the two men were walking in an orchard and Mizi Xia took a bite of a peach and gave it to his ruler half eaten because it was so sweet he wanted to share. This also ties into the title; Love of the Half Eaten Peach” is a coy reference to homosexuality.
Lao Shi is a way of saying teacher though literally it means “old teacher”. The wansui that Canada used earlier was used traditionally with Emperors and means “ten thousand years”
Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?- Where is Myanmar?
Wǒ bù zhī dào…- I don’t know...
durumagi is the festive overcoat worn on certain occasion over the jeogori.
Supreme Leader refers to Kim Jong Il current leader of North Korea
Since human names are used in this and North Korea is the only one featured in the story who doesn’t have one I had to improvise. Jung Soo seemed primarily female at first but then I came across a football player with that name so there you go.
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He spreads his arm in a fantastic arc as if in the dream himself. He has to think quickly, filtering the words, know if he’s not careful they’ll know exactly what the hell he’s talking about. But hell, Canada couldn’t think of a faster story than to adapt the famous rock ballad and so help him he’s going to do this or die trying. “The golden stair stretched out in front of her and she ascended with all the grace of Zhao Ban and smiled brilliantly for she knew that the stars themselves were smiling upon her.” Canada walks slowly around as if mesmerized by a brilliant sight and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he goes on. “And when she reached the top of that great stair all of heaven bright and golden stretched out before her. And she found that she was denied nothing: her every heart’s desire.”
He watches them to make sure they’re watching him. They are. You can do this. You can show them you’re more than Al’s shadow. They underestimate you but you’ll get them. Invisible, he’s always been a chameleon. Canada has always been able to pass for whatever he tried to be. Tonight he’ll seduce them like a perfect innocent child turned red hot siren; they won’t even see it coming.
“And even the signs around her read that this was truly the great kingdom of legend and that here she would eternally be granted that which was her deepest heart’s desire.” Canada smiles at the lot of them a rather coy and naughty expression as he continues. “Ah, but even that which is carved in stone can have two meanings...” Oh and they seem just a bit interested now but he’s only getting started.
“For even as she believes everything around her that her eyes behold there’s a songbird who calls to her from the other side of a dazzling stream to come near so that he may better sing her praises.” Canada shakes his head, and begins to slowly take of his socks and ah, now he sees their interest perking up far more. He’s done a sleazy strip club routine a few times at America’s insistence but this has to be more elegant and practiced and ensnare every last one of them so he can pull this off. And not for the first time in his existence he thanks god that his fellow nations don’t just see the body but his geography as well because he might be in young human form but there are so many hundreds of miles of unmolested wilderness and large tracts of land that any nation would be hard pressed to resist. And the youthful appearance only makes him seem that much more fresh and undeveloped and he can see it in their eyes and suddenly he isn’t quite so jealous of America’s much larger population: that slut.
“Barefoot, she wades through the stream, cautious of her fine silks and hairclips, the cold water lapping around her.” And he looks at them and god he knows it’ll give him away but they won’t be expecting it and he doesn’t want to mess this up. He knows his geography is beautiful and as the second largest landmass it’s vast and damn erotic and his job just isn’t as easy as America’s so screw it. “And yet when she stopped midway in the shallow clear water she looked to the west feeling lacking. And she could feel her spirit cry out for her leaving.” And as he talks he approaches the table and one hand is already on that ridiculous cravat undoing it slowly, his small fingers twining through the silky material as he deftly unties it and drops it onto the ground with a heavy look of those violet eyes as he continues to speak making sure that every last one of them watches as he describes the rings of smoke through the trees that force his protagonist to caress her throat feeling as if she cannot breathe and oh doesn’t it make you wonder, he asks.
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“And the journey grows harder,” he makes sure to emphasize harder, he doesn’t give a damn how blatantly pornographic that sounds ‘cause when he catches North Korea’s eyes, he can see the isolated nation, so deprived of foreign relations eying him like an oasis in the desert and dammit if only it were he and not China that was the goal this would be- Well why not? he asks himself wildly. God knows what America would love to have from North Korea and it wouldn’t exactly be hard. All three of them, yes! He’s going for it. “The journey grows harder because she can hear the melody of the piper calling to her to cast off all her worldly entrapments and she just… can’t… resist.”
And right then he lowers his head, glancing at each of them in succession over the rims of Quebec as they watch his fingers unbutton that torn and scuffed shirt, slowly shrugging the fabric off one slender shoulder. He’s got North Korea and yet he can see China, stupid China as unreadable as ever from behind the raised teacup and South Korea as well looking curious as if he has in fact heard this story before but just can’t put his finger on it. But you’ve never heard it like this because it’s never been told like this and I know exactly what will distract the lot of you. And he turns, speaking of a new day dawning for her as she stands tall and he lets that shirt slip from both his shoulders and lets them glimpse his smooth unblemished back and the continuation of the Rockies, the Appalachians, the plains that are just as great as America’s in their own right and high populations might appeal to some nations but he can hear it as if it were the lot of them breathing heavily right into his ear because Canada has his scars but he can still keep them safely tucked away and look just as new and fresh as the day of his ascension.
“And she reaches it, that bird and reaches out to grab,” he looks over his shoulder and sees them watch him and he discreetly undoes the buttons of the short knickers where they can’t see, his left hand already raised as he reaching out. “A bustle in the hedgerow startles her as the great bird that her fingertips touch turns to fine grains of sand and flows down her arm.” He bows his head, using an old trick to see behind him through the light glinting off the thick non coated frames and they’re watching still, more intently and he whirls and snaps that hand up with a wide, wild smile, forcing the emotion of the song because it’s been playing in his mind the entire time and that guitar solo is approaching the melody and the tempo that he just loves.
And Canada turns, nearing them all, letting those damn knickers slip from his hips and he’s never been more thankful that America didn’t insist on the stupid underwear too because right now there’s nothing stopping them all from glimpsing Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island as he steps out of the gray garments pooled on the floor.
“There are two paths that we choose, yes?” And he bends over drawing the lines on the table, moving the tray and the tea and letting the magically generated parchment meld into the surface as he unrolls it in an ancient trick that England once taught him so other nations wouldn’t see that secret agreement. And he draws out the golden lines not letting them form to words, kneeling down so those islands are covered and both Atlantic and Pacific are reflected in his eyes. “But all paths intersect just as all crows under heaven are black.” And he dares that gamble and goes not for China but for that damn suspicious South Korea with a small, soft hand cupping the other’s face as he leans in.
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