Hetalia kink meme part 21

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hetalia kink meme
part 21

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Reaching Nirvana- Part 12/?

[anonymous]

The work on Lukas’ desk was piling higher and higher. The boss of Denmark wasn’t noticing anything about his nation, and maybe that was because Lukas was going to such pains to hide it. He was seized with a fear that they would realize he was defective and then he wouldn’t just be weird. He’d be gone. Lukas didn’t want that.

So he took Matthias’ papers from his desk, leaving him with only the most simple tasks, the ones that wouldn’t spin his head around. He slid it in amongst his own work and sat at his desk for hours while Matthias lived out his life in another time.

“I’m going to plunder Britain,” he told Lukas. “Do you want to come?” His axe trailed behind him. It should have toppled him over, too heavy for his lanky body to handle, but he was stronger than he looked.

“No,” Lukas said. He looked down at the papers as he said this and avoided pale lively blue eyes that were surely too much like Matthias had once been. For a second, he imagined that Matthias’ face crumbled, but that couldn’t have been it.

“Okay then,” Matthias said. He left.

Lukas looked back down at his papers. Greenland, he thought. Then he looked up at the door where just a moment ago Matthias had been standing, supporting more than should be physically possible with his body. What would he be able to do about this? Nothing, was the answer, he was just pathetic.

(He had a name for that feeling he had every time he had to look Matthias in the eyes- guilt.)

He shut him out and refused to let him back in, and he went around behind his back, thinking that he was pathetic, but never doing anything to help him. So he couldn’t look at his eyes.

“Do you still love me, Liefr?” His axe dripped blood.

Lukas wouldn’t look at him, not even to tell him that his name was not Leifr anymore, that it was Lukas now and that was the way he liked it, that he hadn’t been Leifr since Denmark first conquered him. He stared at the slowly growing puddle in his doorway.

“Clean that up before you go to bed.”

-|-

“What do you suppose will happen?”

His arms are warm around him.

“Dunno.”

He likes the warmth, and snuggles closer.

“Do you think we’ll be alright?”

“Dunno.”

“I love you.”

There’s a catch, a hiccup, a crack in his voice that he really does hate.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

-|-

“Oh, Arthur,” he said in a mournful voice. He clutched him tightly against his chest. “Our little boys. Mathieu and Alfred, and… Arthur.”

Arthur protested weakly, just like he normally did, and he shoved Francis away hard. The hand that hit his chest hurt, and made Francis stumble back into a chair. Privately, he marveled at a little boy that he had seen grow up now grown stronger than him. But that was the way it always was, with Alfred and Matthew too. It had been a long time since Britain was weak.

“Stay away from me.

He was still stronger, though. Sometimes, it just meant that he had to be weaker. “It’s okay to cry, you know?"

“What are you talking about?” he muttered. “You just want me to make an idiot out of myself.”