In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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They were both breathing hard. England and America ambled forward as France grinned, "Yield?"
"As you can see," Russia rumbled. He lowered his hands as France lowered his sword. As he picked up his pipe and climbed back to his feet, France half-turned back to him and flicked his wrist. A thin line of blood opened on the Russian's cheek.
Ivan blinked slowly. He traced the cut with his fingertip and collected a drop of blood. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. "France?" he questioned.
"Just a lesson," France replied airily. "You'll never really excel until you learn to control your balance."
"Hardly sporting," England remarked, as they drew even with the pair.
"You're such a dick," America agreed. Then added, "Even if it is Russia."
"My friends are so good to defend me," Russia remarked placidly. "I don't mind. It is a good lesson." He held out his hand to France.
France shook it. They nodded to each other. France released him and turned away.
America wasn't quite sure what happened right after that, but then France was on the ground and catching the asphalt with his face.
America asked of no one in particular, "What was that?"
"He tripped," Russia replied.
"France, you clumsy idiot--" England went to stand over his neighbor as France shook his head and pulled himself back onto his knees.
"He didn't trip--hey!" America started after the trio as they hauled France back to his feet and started towards the building. "Hey, wait! Wait, wait, wait. Wait. Russia."
Ivan looked back over his shoulder. "Da?"
America grinned. "Do that again."
Ivan let go of France and turned back to him. "I did nothing."
"He didn't trip."
England realized that he was the only one still supporting France and immediately dropped him. France barely kept his feet. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I didn't trip," he agreed dazedly.
"See?"
Russia began, "America, you must be imagining--"
"No. Nuh-uh. You guys have bored the piss out of me for the last twenty minutes with your sissy fucking dueling, but believe it or not, I was paying attention. You can do it on me, if you want! I just want to see!" He dropped his hands to his sides.
Russia shook his head. "You're excitable--"
"Sosi ebanataya suka," America fired off.
His accent was terrible, but his meaning seemed to have gotten through clearly enough, because suddenly gravity switched directions, and there was a moment of intense vertigo, and then he was on the ground with a red pain in the pit of his left knee. He boosted himself up on his elbows, spat blood, then crowed, "Now that is a fucking noble form of self-defense."
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"Ah--shit--" He staggered to his feet. Russia took a step back, his eyes narrowed. "I just memorized a few phrases I figure'd be good for starting a fight. I don't even know what I said."
"I won't translate," Russia growled.
"Probably better not. With France here, I think we count as 'mixed company.'"
"Baise toi."
"You don't have to translate that, either," America replied. Then, to Russia, "What's that called?"
Ivan took another step back. He flexed his pipe in his hand. "We call it systema."
"'The system?' That's a terrible name. How's it work?"
Russia appeared to consider for a moment, then tossed the faucet aside. It clanged and rolled away over the blacktop. "It is better to demonstrate than to explain."
That suited America just fine. France and England exchanged a glance, then shook their heads in sorry synchronicity and continued on in to the building.
America spent the next half hour getting knocked flat on the ground.
It wasn't that he was bad at fighting. America was great at fighting.
It wasn't even that he couldn't hurt Russia. He did hurt Russia--whenever he could keep his feet long enough to hit him. Russia had a bloody nose, a black eye, and probably half a dozen bruised ribs. CQC--the Marine close quarter combat system, what they called semper fu--was deadly stuff. It was the best self defense system the American military could develop.
And it did nothing to keep Russia from kicking his legs out from under him again, dropping a knee into his chest once he hit the ground, and waving a fist over his face in a casual gesture that said, "If I had a knife in my hand right now, I'd unplug your eye sockets and you could guzzle Coke through an extra two holes in your face."
When his head stopped spinning and the little white flashing lights faded from his eyes, he rasped, "Your system is bullshit."
Russia smiled and drew a finger across his throat, in a gesture that said, "And here's where I'd put your second smile."
America jerked his chin away. "Who came up with it, anyway? Your KGB assholes?"
Ivan said, "That's a secret, America."
"Yeah, well." He struggled to sit up. Ivan dug his knee into his solar plexus in response. "Let me up, already."
Russia tipped his head. Something glittered in his eyes. "Do you yield, yet?"
America's lips thinned. He glanced towards the office complex. "It's getting late. I'm tired of this."
Russia leaned forward and caught his wrists. "Too tired to fight?" His voice was dark, rough silk. "Then yield."
America jerked against him. "Go fuck yourself."
Russia pinned his hands above his head. The ends of his hair hung almost in America's eyes. "Yield."
America fought for leverage; he tried to kick Russia off; Russia remained as he was, immovable as stone. He glared into that amused, alien, violet gaze, until Russia murmured, "I think I like you like this," and his eyes dropped away and he flushed.
"Fine, I yield," he spat. "Now let me up."
The next few seconds made him dizzy to think about: Russia just smiled at him, and did nothing. Then he pushed off of Alfred and rose. He picked up his pipe from several feet away, swung it over his shoulder, and strolled off towards the high rise, whistling to himself.
America scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his aching chest. He felt ashamed; and, somehow, without knowing what it was he had expected or hoped for--still tingling from those last few seconds of silence--he felt horribly let down.
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France, that's what you get for being a poor sport. Russia'd.
And AMERICA... GUAM... haha!
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awelkjsls
I love everything here, omfg.
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America's hilarious in this (I loved the part about Guam, him speaking Russian and his bickering with Russia during the fight) and overall, all the characterizations are just fantastic.
I also loved the fight scenes themselves & the way you described them. I guess fencing would be the only topic in which England and America would compliment France, huh?
Great stuff, author!anon. You made this OP's day!
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Glad to hear it hit the spot, OP!
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and GUAM.
I lol'd
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This may be my new favorite fic on this meme *__*
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Sorry about that, my capslock must have stuck...
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