Tangerines That Are Bitter [1/?]
Hangovers
In this rather messy hotel room, there is a rather messy bed. Next to this rather messy bed in this rather messy hotel room is a rather messy nightstand. And on this rather messy nightstand, next to a rather messy bed, in a rather messy hotel room, is a digital alarm clock.
The time reads 7:29:56 AM.
…57
…58
…59
7:30:00 AM.
An obnoxious and loud alarm erupts from said device, alerting the occupants of this rather messy hotel room to arise to the new morning.
Its loathing screams don't last long.
On cue, a slightly tan, muscular arm emerged from the rather messy sheets of the rather messy bed and slammed down on the device. Perhaps slammed was an understatement - the arm crushed the clock on impact, sending pieces flying about. Muffled swears were heard from under the rather messy sheets, probably cursing at the arm's actions. Shifting about, the arm curls over the rather messy sheets as the body it's attached to promptly sits up.
The body is revealed to be a man - possibly in his mid to late twenties. His brown hair, much like everything else in the room is a mess with locks protruding about. He had pale emerald eyes that were bloodshot and tired. Across his nose was an adhesive bandage, most likely from some mishap. Exception of a shark tooth necklace, the man is shirtless, showcasing his rather…impressive physique.
But who is this man?
Fortunately, he has a name.
Causally, his name is Jett Kirkland.
Officially however, his name was Jett Kirkland, the Commonwealth of Australia.
A disgruntled yawn escaped from the Australian's lips. Much to his dismay, Jett could fell a dull pain hammering in the back of his head.
"I'm never drinking again…I'm never drinking again…" He mentally chanted.
Rubbing his eyes of the accumulated rheum, Jett wondered what the hell had happened as he looked around. The messy state of the hotel room brought a smile to his lisps. His pants were on the floor, his shirt was on the dresser, someone else's shirt was on the foot of the bed, and his underwear was hanging from the ceiling fan.
"I really wish I could remember last night…" The Australian thought. His body was aching from more than just a hangover. It must have been fun.
That 'fun' quickly diminished as Jett's eyes scanned the floor and came across a familiar pair of black boots.
And a familiar black coat…
And a familiar black hat…
And a familiar axe…
Wait…axe?
The Australian shook his head when he realized there was an axe standing nonchalantly in the corner. Jett licked his lips, glancing back at the black coat. Then back to the weapon. Oh no…
Illuminated by the sunlight from the windows, next to Jett was another man sleeping peacefully. He had blonde hair that glowed under the light and his paler skin contrast with the Australian's tanner self. Numerous scars where dashed here and there on his muscular torso. And - much to Jett's horror (or embarrassment) - full tent under the waist.
The brunette clasped a hand over his mouth to suppress the scream that wanted to desperately come out. He couldn't believe it.
Nor did he want to.
Unofficially, Jett Kirkland slept with Mikkel Densen.
Officially, the Commonwealth of Australia slept with the Kingdom of Denmark.
Denmark.
Denmark.
That atrocious name ricocheted off Jett's brain and verbally echoed over and over again.
"I-I slept with him…" He couldn't believe the words that were coming from his mouth.
"I-I…slept with him…"
He needed to get out of there. Now.
The Australian frantically searched for his clothing, ignoring the sharp pains coming from his back and ass. Hastily slipping on his khaki shorts and black tang-top, Jett grabbed whatever was his and quickly left the hotel room. (How he managed to slip on his sandals was still a mystery.) Quickly walking down the hotel corridor, the Australian's mind was in a buzz of questions. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why did it have to be Denmark? The last thing Jett remember was getting a few mugs and-
Suddenly, something slammed into Jett. He stopped unfazed and glanced forward. Nothing there.
"Fucking hell!"
Looking down, he rolled his eyes. Oh great…
"What 'he hell's wrong with you?" A shorter man barked, wiping coffee off his now ruined dress shirt.
"I-I'm sorry Zee, but-" The Australian helped the man up.
'Zee' was his nickname. Unofficially, the shorter man with short, blonde hair and Dartmouth green eyes' name was Karl Kirkland.
Officially, the nation of New Zealand.
"Where the hell were you last night? Arthur was practically chewing me out!" Karl steamed.
"Sorry I got busy-"
"Busy huh?" The Zealander snorted as he viewed Jett up and down.
"Yeah, you were really busy last night…" He sneered.
"It wasn't like that!" The Australian snapped.
"You know what - I don't care. I need you to-wait…is that a hickey?" Karl pointed to Jett's neck.
"Don't touch me!" Jett immediately swat the hand reaching out to him. Karl looked visibly hurt.
"Oz…?"
"J-Just leave me be for now." He walked past the Zealander, ignoring the shouts behind him.
Once in the safety of his own hotel room, Jett darted for the bathroom. Switching on the showerhead, the Australian sheds his ruffled clothing and steps into the shower, pulling the blue shower curtain across. A sigh of relief escaped the man's mouth as the heated water pelted his body.
Closing his eyes, the sound of water became distant to Jett as memories began to drift into his mind…
Their breathing mingled with each other, their sweat sliding with each other's aswell, hearing the slapping of wet skin, which made everything more erotic. Jett threw his head back, enjoying the feeling of being rocked back and forth from the rough thrusts.
"Oh God you're tight…" Mikkel groaned.
"Ngh…so close…so close…!" Jett moaned with each thrust.
His fingers dung into the Dane's back as he rapidly approached nirvana.
Alas he cried out.
"Denmark!"
Jett opened his eyes and found his face beet red.
He was definitely busy last night…
Something cold ran down his face, shocking him awake. He bolted up right, realizing someone was pouring icy water on his face. It stung his eyes, and he swung out, trying to hit his assailant.
"Typical."
Mikkel pulled the sheets up, wiping the accursed liquid out of his eyes. He looked up to see Lukas standing over him with a now empty glass of water.
"What the hell Norge…" He slipped out of bed, realizing he was naked.
"Oh wait…"
"Guessing you didn't remember the fact that you were drunk off your ass last night!" Lukas shouted.
"Gezz what's the big deal? Can't a guy live a little?" The Dane downplayed. He spotted his clothing strewn about the room.
"The 'big deal' is that I'm tried of always coming back to our room and find you passed out after fucking some…degenerate." The Norwegian hissed.
"Speaking of fucking…" Mikkel noticed the clear imprint of someone else's body on the mattress.
"Any chance you bumped into the guy I fucked?" He asked with a cheeky grin.
Lukas blushed at the Dane's choice of words.
"N-No! How should I know? I-a guy…?" An eyebrow was raised.
"How are you sure it was a guy?"
"Dunno…last night is kinda of a blur…I do remember some guy all over me…he was really all over me…" Mikkel said with a grin.
"Y'know Norge…my charm is quite-" A pair of undergarments slapped him in the face.
"Get dressed you idiot."
Jett stumbled into the meeting room quietly. He peered around, and thankfully noticed Denmark had not yet shown up.
"Kesesese…look who it is…"
That laugh stopped the Australian in his tracks. Oh shit…
"Why it's Australia de amis!"
Double shit.
"Tienes razón François…!"
Triple shit.
Jett turned around and saw a trio of men approaching him. One fellow had platinum blonde hair and red irises. Despite the formality around him, the man wore a black hoodie with blue jeans. There was a fluffy yellow chick perched on his head. He is quite know for his boisterous attitude and generally being a hooligan.
His name was Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Kaliningrad Oblast. Historically speaking, he was the Kingdom of Prussia…
In the middle was a taller gentleman. He has shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, and has a slight amount of facial hair which he believes makes him look like a 'big brother'. The man's outfit consisted of a long blue coat and matching capelet, with read pants and brown boots. However his personality had him infatuated with pretty much everyone, making lucid sexual comments and having no respect for personal space whatsoever.
His name was François Bonnefoy, the French Republic.
Lastly, the other guy. He has somewhat curly brown hair, green eyes, olive skin, and wore a khaki-colored uniform with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The other two consider him 'clueless' because of his inability to 'read the atmosphere'. Despite this he means well, although he happens to come as insensitive.
His name was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the Kingdom of Spain.
Together, they make the infamous 'Bad Touch Trio'.
And judging how smug their faces were towards the Australian, things weren't looking pleasant.
"What do you guys want?" Jett asked.
"Oh look, he's actually taking in complete sentences…!" Gilbert teased, sending his companions giggling.
"Now ami, give him a break - he can't just handle his alcohol…" François added.
"Remember when he started to dance on top of the bar…?" Antonio commented.
They all erupted into laughter, much to Jett's disgust.
"Fuck off." He snaps and starts to walk away from them.
"Fuck off? You were too busy doing that with Denmark!" The Prussian sneered. He watched as the Australian stop dead in his tracks.
"What did you say…?" Jett's voice became low suddenly.
"Kesesese…you and him were practically eating each other's faces off! 'Oh Denmark…Denmark…! Den-"
Gilbert didn't get a chance to finish that sentence because - before anyone could register - Jett had slammed him against the wall, startling everyone at the Australian's actions.
"You son of a bitch!" Jett growled.
"M-Mr. Australia!"
"Gilbert!"
Both turned to see two people looking at them very concerned. One was a taller gentleman who was wearing a black business suit. He had blonde hair and icy blue yes. The man was very hard working and valued order and bureaucracy. However he didn't tolerate slacking off or lollygagging.
His name was Ludwig Beilschmidt, the Federal Republic of Germany and the younger brother of Gilbert.
Next to him was a shorter teenage boy. Like Gilbert, he didn't dressed formal. Instead the teenager wore a maroon-colored sweater and a pair of dirty blue jeans. Around his neck was a black scarf that trailed behind. He had black hair and heterochromic eyes. The bespectacled teen also carried a big burgundy-colored book with Latin text.
"What is going on here?" Ludwig asked.
"Nothing West, we're just foolin' around…" The Prussian joked.
"Is this true Jett?" The German turned towards the Australian.
In all means of actuality, Jett really wanted to punch Gilbert. Really wanted to. But instead he decided against violence; he shouldn't stoop to his level - he was mature than that. Plus he didn't want to attract any negative attention.
"Yeah…just horse playing between mates…" Jett lied, putting down Gilbert.
"You know 'rough housing' is frowned upon. I don't tolerate these kinds of actions. Let's not have this kind of conflict again." Ludwig warned.
"Now Gilbert you come with me and the rest of you do take your seats."
The Australian watch as the group dispersed with the Prussian whining as he followed his younger brother. It was only then that Jett realized that the teenager was still present and was staring at him.
"Uh…"
"O-Oh! I-I uh saw y-you guys fighting and-" The teen stammered for words.
"I-Is everything alright?" He asked.
"Yeah things are fine, thanks for watching out for me Wally." Jett answered, scratching his head.
'Wally' like 'Zee', was another nickname the Australian gave. The teenager's real name was Alexei Waleenstedt. He was an assistant to one of the other nations.
"…Well I saw you come in and you looked upset-"
"I'm fine." Jett interrupted.
"-Are you sure-"
"I'm fine." The Australian repeated.
"…Okay." Alexei said meekly.
"Attention, the meeting will begin shortly. Please take your respected seats." A Swiss voice said on the overhead intercom.
"Well that's my cue…" Jett sighed.
"C-Can we talk later?" Alexei asked.
"Sure."
Jett watched as the teen smiled and quickly parted, his black scarf tailing behind as he walked.
The brunette then walked over to his assigned seat (which was right next to Thailand) and sat down. Jett felt his heart skipped a couple of beats when the doors opened and the Nordics walked in - with Denmark leading them. The Australian shifted uncomfortably as Mikkel sat right across from him, oblivious to the other's actions.
As the meeting the progressed, the Australian found himself inexplicably losing interest. Really, these meetings of late were nothing more than squabbling. The United States was giving a ludicrous speech about environmental issues, China was complaining about his debts being due, France and Britain were arguing again and that South Italy was throwing a tantrum.
Rolling his eyes at the typical scene, Jett glanced at Mikkel. The Dane seemed to be his usual cheery self, which made Jett pondered if Mikkel had remember anything last night.
Not that he wanted him remember…
Hell the Australian didn't want to acknowledge it. It happened, it's done, it's in the past. End of story, case closed - the end.
Yet part of Jett wanted Mikkel to bring it up or at least comment about it. What? He wasn't that good? Of course not…he's always been good - not that he needed the Dane to say that.
Alas after four hours of meaningless squabbles, the meeting was finally adjured. Throughout the whole ordeal Jett hadn't received a single word form Mikkel. Although a part of the Australian wanted to confront the Dane, he decided against it.
Besides…he had other issues to attend.
"Care to explain…?" A shorter man asked, moving his bushy eyebrows into a frown.
"I…I'm sorry…?" Jett replied.
Bad choice - that only seem to make Arthur even madder. Once again Jett found himself tuning out of the Briton's lengthy lecture about keeping promises and whatnot. For him, it seems like whatever he did wasn't always good enough for Arthur. Always about how Jett should be more like this and instead of that. Always.
Ignoring the 'how I'm disappointed in you' speech, from the Briton, Jett's eyes scanned over the meeting room. Crowding throughout were a number of nations that hadn't left yet, forming small groups as they chattered with their close allies and glowered at their enemies. His eyes widened when they noticed Mikkel flirting with some girl. She was young and twirling her hair with an annoying high-pitched laugh at everything he said.
This made Jett surprisingly...mad.
"The nerve of him…after we just did…!" His hands curled into fists.
Wait…was he actually jealous?
"Jett!" Arthur snapped.
"What?" The Australian turns his attention back towards the Briton.
"Did you even here what I just said?" Arthur exclaimed.
"No and I really don't care!" Jett pushed past the British man and quickly stormed out of the meeting room.
That night the Australian tossed and turned in bed. He wanted to go to sleep but after several attempts to fall asleep, Jett realized he couldn't. Today's events were troubling him. From waking up and finding Mikkel sleeping beside him to finding the exact same Dane flirting with some tramp and acting like nothing happened…
"But what did happened last night…?" The Australian thought.
Apparently, from what he remembered and from what Gilbert implied, Jett had gone to the bar, got insanely drunk, met Mikkel and went back to the Dane's room to have hot, rough sex. Not that he actually enjoyed it…
The brunette felt his face heat up.
…Okay, maybe he did enjoy it. Fine he loved it. All right - he fucking loved being fuckin' roughly pounded into the mattress by Mikkel's huge-
"God dammit!" Jett punched his pillow.
Fine.
He admits it.
Jett Kirkland had hot, rough sex with Mikkel Densen and he fucking loved it.
So then, why was he going through all this? Why was he stumbling over his emotions and memories confused? Intoxicated or not, Mikkel was not the first person to come in mind to have sex.
So why the hell did he sleep with him?
"Dammit Jett - think!" The Australian mentally screamed. He closed his eyes and tried to remember.
Okay he's shifting through papers…
Gilbert is inviting him to drinks…
He declines…
"Oh come now ami, you deserve a break…" François said.
"Yeah Bushy Brows has working your ass since Tuesday!" The Prussian added.
"Guys…I'd love too but Arthur has called another 'family' meeting…plus someone needs to take care of Wy…" Jett explains.
"But how do you know she's not already being taken care of?" Antonio points out.
"See? I'll bet Mattie is babysitting for her. He's always had a nack for taking care of things…" Gilbert comments.
"So what do you say Australie?" The Frenchman asks, wrapping a arm around the Australian's.
"Well…the way you guys put it…" Jett says, a little uncertain.
If he had known, or had been told, going out to drinks with the Bad Touch Trio was a very bad - if not - foolish idea. Because being inebriated alone with three known lecherous and perverse men would almost essentially lead to…unwanted implications.
Unfortunately Jett was learning this the hard way.
"Y-Y'kno-w (hic) what? A-Arthur is -uch (urp) a bu-zzkil-l!" The Australian slurred.
He turned to look at François who only smiled.
"S-Seriou-sly (hic) Frog, what -he (hic) hell do -ou (urp) seeinhim?"
"Despite his 'buzzkill' La Grande-Bretagne is fun to mess with. Plus he's so cute when he's mad." The Frenchman giggled.
Jett rolled his hazy eyes and down another mug of beer.
That would make it the 9th he downed.
"God…it's like-like he treats me (hic) like a fucking kid. Fucking hell - I'm almost thirty for crying 'out loud!" The Australian exclaimed.
"You poor thing." The Spaniard said, shaking his head.
"Go on - drown your problems," Gilbert handed him another mug.
"I-I think-I ha-d (hic) enough-"
"-But we just arrived-"
"-Surely-"
"No," Jett stands up.
"I had-had enough. Now I (urp) hafttogo." He slurs.
The Australian proceeds to walk away, although there is a slight wobble with his walk. However doesn't walk far before bumping into someone.
"S-Sorry…mate…"
"Jett…?"
Jett blinks and a smile grows on his face.
"Hey! Mikkel…!" He says, giving the Dane a hug.
"Uh… hej…what are you going here?" Mikkel asks. He notices the haze in the Australian's eyes.
"Pfft…y'know…getting' some-some drinks…yeah…" Jett said.
"Care to join us Denmark?" Gilbert asks, raising a mug.
The next thing he knew, Jett found himself pushed down to the bed. Hazy emerald eyes looked up to equally hazy sapphire ones. Removing his shirt, Mikkel hovered over the Australian, knee slowly pushing Jett's legs apart.
A shiver ran through the Dane's back when he looked down at the half-naked Australian staring up at him with an inviting smile.
"What is it?" Jett asked as he ran his fingers over Mikkel's chest.
"I-I mean…this is so sudden…" The Dane murmured.
"I know…" Jett giggled.
"We've just meet!" Mikkel chuckled.
"I know!" The Australian laughs.
"…What if we don't remember this?" Mikkel asks softly, feeling uncertain.
"…Then let's make it count…" A kiss was planted gently on the Dane's lips.
But thing was, this kiss wasn't like the sloppy ones in the bar, or in the lobby, or in the elevator and most certainty not like the ones in the proceeding hotel corridor.
This one was different.
This one meant something.
As his lips departed from the Dane's a smile grew again on Jett's face.
"C'mon Denmark…" He says sensually.
Fingers idly float above Mikkel's belt.
"Show me Copenhagen…"
Jett opened his eyes.
Definitely busy…
A/N
Sooo...yeah...I uh...yeah...
I ship crack. Problem?
Anyway this idea came to me back in September...and I've been working on since then...
This is also on my dA & FF.Net account...so feel free to drop by for updates/stories there too...
Please excuse my attempts at writing...everyone. Espically Australia and Denmark >~>
Translations & Notes
de amis - Friends
Tienes razón - You're right
ami - Friend
Australie - Australia
La Grande-Bretagne - Britain
hej - Hey
- The teenager is my OC, don't worry - he's not going to steal the spotlight.
- I don't know his official age is, so Australia is like 27-29-ish in this fanfic.
Umm...it's M-preg soo... ^^;
Comment? Feedback?
In this rather messy hotel room, there is a rather messy bed. Next to this rather messy bed in this rather messy hotel room is a rather messy nightstand. And on this rather messy nightstand, next to a rather messy bed, in a rather messy hotel room, is a digital alarm clock.
The time reads 7:29:56 AM.
…57
…58
…59
7:30:00 AM.
An obnoxious and loud alarm erupts from said device, alerting the occupants of this rather messy hotel room to arise to the new morning.
Its loathing screams don't last long.
On cue, a slightly tan, muscular arm emerged from the rather messy sheets of the rather messy bed and slammed down on the device. Perhaps slammed was an understatement - the arm crushed the clock on impact, sending pieces flying about. Muffled swears were heard from under the rather messy sheets, probably cursing at the arm's actions. Shifting about, the arm curls over the rather messy sheets as the body it's attached to promptly sits up.
The body is revealed to be a man - possibly in his mid to late twenties. His brown hair, much like everything else in the room is a mess with locks protruding about. He had pale emerald eyes that were bloodshot and tired. Across his nose was an adhesive bandage, most likely from some mishap. Exception of a shark tooth necklace, the man is shirtless, showcasing his rather…impressive physique.
But who is this man?
Fortunately, he has a name.
Causally, his name is Jett Kirkland.
Officially however, his name was Jett Kirkland, the Commonwealth of Australia.
A disgruntled yawn escaped from the Australian's lips. Much to his dismay, Jett could fell a dull pain hammering in the back of his head.
"I'm never drinking again…I'm never drinking again…" He mentally chanted.
Rubbing his eyes of the accumulated rheum, Jett wondered what the hell had happened as he looked around. The messy state of the hotel room brought a smile to his lisps. His pants were on the floor, his shirt was on the dresser, someone else's shirt was on the foot of the bed, and his underwear was hanging from the ceiling fan.
"I really wish I could remember last night…" The Australian thought. His body was aching from more than just a hangover. It must have been fun.
That 'fun' quickly diminished as Jett's eyes scanned the floor and came across a familiar pair of black boots.
And a familiar black coat…
And a familiar black hat…
And a familiar axe…
Wait…axe?
The Australian shook his head when he realized there was an axe standing nonchalantly in the corner. Jett licked his lips, glancing back at the black coat. Then back to the weapon. Oh no…
Illuminated by the sunlight from the windows, next to Jett was another man sleeping peacefully. He had blonde hair that glowed under the light and his paler skin contrast with the Australian's tanner self. Numerous scars where dashed here and there on his muscular torso. And - much to Jett's horror (or embarrassment) - full tent under the waist.
The brunette clasped a hand over his mouth to suppress the scream that wanted to desperately come out. He couldn't believe it.
Nor did he want to.
Unofficially, Jett Kirkland slept with Mikkel Densen.
Officially, the Commonwealth of Australia slept with the Kingdom of Denmark.
Denmark.
Denmark.
That atrocious name ricocheted off Jett's brain and verbally echoed over and over again.
"I-I slept with him…" He couldn't believe the words that were coming from his mouth.
"I-I…slept with him…"
He needed to get out of there. Now.
The Australian frantically searched for his clothing, ignoring the sharp pains coming from his back and ass. Hastily slipping on his khaki shorts and black tang-top, Jett grabbed whatever was his and quickly left the hotel room. (How he managed to slip on his sandals was still a mystery.) Quickly walking down the hotel corridor, the Australian's mind was in a buzz of questions. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why did it have to be Denmark? The last thing Jett remember was getting a few mugs and-
Suddenly, something slammed into Jett. He stopped unfazed and glanced forward. Nothing there.
"Fucking hell!"
Looking down, he rolled his eyes. Oh great…
"What 'he hell's wrong with you?" A shorter man barked, wiping coffee off his now ruined dress shirt.
"I-I'm sorry Zee, but-" The Australian helped the man up.
'Zee' was his nickname. Unofficially, the shorter man with short, blonde hair and Dartmouth green eyes' name was Karl Kirkland.
Officially, the nation of New Zealand.
"Where the hell were you last night? Arthur was practically chewing me out!" Karl steamed.
"Sorry I got busy-"
"Busy huh?" The Zealander snorted as he viewed Jett up and down.
"Yeah, you were really busy last night…" He sneered.
"It wasn't like that!" The Australian snapped.
"You know what - I don't care. I need you to-wait…is that a hickey?" Karl pointed to Jett's neck.
"Don't touch me!" Jett immediately swat the hand reaching out to him. Karl looked visibly hurt.
"Oz…?"
"J-Just leave me be for now." He walked past the Zealander, ignoring the shouts behind him.
Once in the safety of his own hotel room, Jett darted for the bathroom. Switching on the showerhead, the Australian sheds his ruffled clothing and steps into the shower, pulling the blue shower curtain across. A sigh of relief escaped the man's mouth as the heated water pelted his body.
Closing his eyes, the sound of water became distant to Jett as memories began to drift into his mind…
Their breathing mingled with each other, their sweat sliding with each other's aswell, hearing the slapping of wet skin, which made everything more erotic. Jett threw his head back, enjoying the feeling of being rocked back and forth from the rough thrusts.
"Oh God you're tight…" Mikkel groaned.
"Ngh…so close…so close…!" Jett moaned with each thrust.
His fingers dung into the Dane's back as he rapidly approached nirvana.
Alas he cried out.
"Denmark!"
Jett opened his eyes and found his face beet red.
He was definitely busy last night…
Something cold ran down his face, shocking him awake. He bolted up right, realizing someone was pouring icy water on his face. It stung his eyes, and he swung out, trying to hit his assailant.
"Typical."
Mikkel pulled the sheets up, wiping the accursed liquid out of his eyes. He looked up to see Lukas standing over him with a now empty glass of water.
"What the hell Norge…" He slipped out of bed, realizing he was naked.
"Oh wait…"
"Guessing you didn't remember the fact that you were drunk off your ass last night!" Lukas shouted.
"Gezz what's the big deal? Can't a guy live a little?" The Dane downplayed. He spotted his clothing strewn about the room.
"The 'big deal' is that I'm tried of always coming back to our room and find you passed out after fucking some…degenerate." The Norwegian hissed.
"Speaking of fucking…" Mikkel noticed the clear imprint of someone else's body on the mattress.
"Any chance you bumped into the guy I fucked?" He asked with a cheeky grin.
Lukas blushed at the Dane's choice of words.
"N-No! How should I know? I-a guy…?" An eyebrow was raised.
"How are you sure it was a guy?"
"Dunno…last night is kinda of a blur…I do remember some guy all over me…he was really all over me…" Mikkel said with a grin.
"Y'know Norge…my charm is quite-" A pair of undergarments slapped him in the face.
"Get dressed you idiot."
Jett stumbled into the meeting room quietly. He peered around, and thankfully noticed Denmark had not yet shown up.
"Kesesese…look who it is…"
That laugh stopped the Australian in his tracks. Oh shit…
"Why it's Australia de amis!"
Double shit.
"Tienes razón François…!"
Triple shit.
Jett turned around and saw a trio of men approaching him. One fellow had platinum blonde hair and red irises. Despite the formality around him, the man wore a black hoodie with blue jeans. There was a fluffy yellow chick perched on his head. He is quite know for his boisterous attitude and generally being a hooligan.
His name was Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Kaliningrad Oblast. Historically speaking, he was the Kingdom of Prussia…
In the middle was a taller gentleman. He has shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, and has a slight amount of facial hair which he believes makes him look like a 'big brother'. The man's outfit consisted of a long blue coat and matching capelet, with read pants and brown boots. However his personality had him infatuated with pretty much everyone, making lucid sexual comments and having no respect for personal space whatsoever.
His name was François Bonnefoy, the French Republic.
Lastly, the other guy. He has somewhat curly brown hair, green eyes, olive skin, and wore a khaki-colored uniform with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The other two consider him 'clueless' because of his inability to 'read the atmosphere'. Despite this he means well, although he happens to come as insensitive.
His name was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the Kingdom of Spain.
Together, they make the infamous 'Bad Touch Trio'.
And judging how smug their faces were towards the Australian, things weren't looking pleasant.
"What do you guys want?" Jett asked.
"Oh look, he's actually taking in complete sentences…!" Gilbert teased, sending his companions giggling.
"Now ami, give him a break - he can't just handle his alcohol…" François added.
"Remember when he started to dance on top of the bar…?" Antonio commented.
They all erupted into laughter, much to Jett's disgust.
"Fuck off." He snaps and starts to walk away from them.
"Fuck off? You were too busy doing that with Denmark!" The Prussian sneered. He watched as the Australian stop dead in his tracks.
"What did you say…?" Jett's voice became low suddenly.
"Kesesese…you and him were practically eating each other's faces off! 'Oh Denmark…Denmark…! Den-"
Gilbert didn't get a chance to finish that sentence because - before anyone could register - Jett had slammed him against the wall, startling everyone at the Australian's actions.
"You son of a bitch!" Jett growled.
"M-Mr. Australia!"
"Gilbert!"
Both turned to see two people looking at them very concerned. One was a taller gentleman who was wearing a black business suit. He had blonde hair and icy blue yes. The man was very hard working and valued order and bureaucracy. However he didn't tolerate slacking off or lollygagging.
His name was Ludwig Beilschmidt, the Federal Republic of Germany and the younger brother of Gilbert.
Next to him was a shorter teenage boy. Like Gilbert, he didn't dressed formal. Instead the teenager wore a maroon-colored sweater and a pair of dirty blue jeans. Around his neck was a black scarf that trailed behind. He had black hair and heterochromic eyes. The bespectacled teen also carried a big burgundy-colored book with Latin text.
"What is going on here?" Ludwig asked.
"Nothing West, we're just foolin' around…" The Prussian joked.
"Is this true Jett?" The German turned towards the Australian.
In all means of actuality, Jett really wanted to punch Gilbert. Really wanted to. But instead he decided against violence; he shouldn't stoop to his level - he was mature than that. Plus he didn't want to attract any negative attention.
"Yeah…just horse playing between mates…" Jett lied, putting down Gilbert.
"You know 'rough housing' is frowned upon. I don't tolerate these kinds of actions. Let's not have this kind of conflict again." Ludwig warned.
"Now Gilbert you come with me and the rest of you do take your seats."
The Australian watch as the group dispersed with the Prussian whining as he followed his younger brother. It was only then that Jett realized that the teenager was still present and was staring at him.
"Uh…"
"O-Oh! I-I uh saw y-you guys fighting and-" The teen stammered for words.
"I-Is everything alright?" He asked.
"Yeah things are fine, thanks for watching out for me Wally." Jett answered, scratching his head.
'Wally' like 'Zee', was another nickname the Australian gave. The teenager's real name was Alexei Waleenstedt. He was an assistant to one of the other nations.
"…Well I saw you come in and you looked upset-"
"I'm fine." Jett interrupted.
"-Are you sure-"
"I'm fine." The Australian repeated.
"…Okay." Alexei said meekly.
"Attention, the meeting will begin shortly. Please take your respected seats." A Swiss voice said on the overhead intercom.
"Well that's my cue…" Jett sighed.
"C-Can we talk later?" Alexei asked.
"Sure."
Jett watched as the teen smiled and quickly parted, his black scarf tailing behind as he walked.
The brunette then walked over to his assigned seat (which was right next to Thailand) and sat down. Jett felt his heart skipped a couple of beats when the doors opened and the Nordics walked in - with Denmark leading them. The Australian shifted uncomfortably as Mikkel sat right across from him, oblivious to the other's actions.
As the meeting the progressed, the Australian found himself inexplicably losing interest. Really, these meetings of late were nothing more than squabbling. The United States was giving a ludicrous speech about environmental issues, China was complaining about his debts being due, France and Britain were arguing again and that South Italy was throwing a tantrum.
Rolling his eyes at the typical scene, Jett glanced at Mikkel. The Dane seemed to be his usual cheery self, which made Jett pondered if Mikkel had remember anything last night.
Not that he wanted him remember…
Hell the Australian didn't want to acknowledge it. It happened, it's done, it's in the past. End of story, case closed - the end.
Yet part of Jett wanted Mikkel to bring it up or at least comment about it. What? He wasn't that good? Of course not…he's always been good - not that he needed the Dane to say that.
Alas after four hours of meaningless squabbles, the meeting was finally adjured. Throughout the whole ordeal Jett hadn't received a single word form Mikkel. Although a part of the Australian wanted to confront the Dane, he decided against it.
Besides…he had other issues to attend.
"Care to explain…?" A shorter man asked, moving his bushy eyebrows into a frown.
"I…I'm sorry…?" Jett replied.
Bad choice - that only seem to make Arthur even madder. Once again Jett found himself tuning out of the Briton's lengthy lecture about keeping promises and whatnot. For him, it seems like whatever he did wasn't always good enough for Arthur. Always about how Jett should be more like this and instead of that. Always.
Ignoring the 'how I'm disappointed in you' speech, from the Briton, Jett's eyes scanned over the meeting room. Crowding throughout were a number of nations that hadn't left yet, forming small groups as they chattered with their close allies and glowered at their enemies. His eyes widened when they noticed Mikkel flirting with some girl. She was young and twirling her hair with an annoying high-pitched laugh at everything he said.
This made Jett surprisingly...mad.
"The nerve of him…after we just did…!" His hands curled into fists.
Wait…was he actually jealous?
"Jett!" Arthur snapped.
"What?" The Australian turns his attention back towards the Briton.
"Did you even here what I just said?" Arthur exclaimed.
"No and I really don't care!" Jett pushed past the British man and quickly stormed out of the meeting room.
That night the Australian tossed and turned in bed. He wanted to go to sleep but after several attempts to fall asleep, Jett realized he couldn't. Today's events were troubling him. From waking up and finding Mikkel sleeping beside him to finding the exact same Dane flirting with some tramp and acting like nothing happened…
"But what did happened last night…?" The Australian thought.
Apparently, from what he remembered and from what Gilbert implied, Jett had gone to the bar, got insanely drunk, met Mikkel and went back to the Dane's room to have hot, rough sex. Not that he actually enjoyed it…
The brunette felt his face heat up.
…Okay, maybe he did enjoy it. Fine he loved it. All right - he fucking loved being fuckin' roughly pounded into the mattress by Mikkel's huge-
"God dammit!" Jett punched his pillow.
Fine.
He admits it.
Jett Kirkland had hot, rough sex with Mikkel Densen and he fucking loved it.
So then, why was he going through all this? Why was he stumbling over his emotions and memories confused? Intoxicated or not, Mikkel was not the first person to come in mind to have sex.
So why the hell did he sleep with him?
"Dammit Jett - think!" The Australian mentally screamed. He closed his eyes and tried to remember.
Okay he's shifting through papers…
Gilbert is inviting him to drinks…
He declines…
"Oh come now ami, you deserve a break…" François said.
"Yeah Bushy Brows has working your ass since Tuesday!" The Prussian added.
"Guys…I'd love too but Arthur has called another 'family' meeting…plus someone needs to take care of Wy…" Jett explains.
"But how do you know she's not already being taken care of?" Antonio points out.
"See? I'll bet Mattie is babysitting for her. He's always had a nack for taking care of things…" Gilbert comments.
"So what do you say Australie?" The Frenchman asks, wrapping a arm around the Australian's.
"Well…the way you guys put it…" Jett says, a little uncertain.
If he had known, or had been told, going out to drinks with the Bad Touch Trio was a very bad - if not - foolish idea. Because being inebriated alone with three known lecherous and perverse men would almost essentially lead to…unwanted implications.
Unfortunately Jett was learning this the hard way.
"Y-Y'kno-w (hic) what? A-Arthur is -uch (urp) a bu-zzkil-l!" The Australian slurred.
He turned to look at François who only smiled.
"S-Seriou-sly (hic) Frog, what -he (hic) hell do -ou (urp) seeinhim?"
"Despite his 'buzzkill' La Grande-Bretagne is fun to mess with. Plus he's so cute when he's mad." The Frenchman giggled.
Jett rolled his hazy eyes and down another mug of beer.
That would make it the 9th he downed.
"God…it's like-like he treats me (hic) like a fucking kid. Fucking hell - I'm almost thirty for crying 'out loud!" The Australian exclaimed.
"You poor thing." The Spaniard said, shaking his head.
"Go on - drown your problems," Gilbert handed him another mug.
"I-I think-I ha-d (hic) enough-"
"-But we just arrived-"
"-Surely-"
"No," Jett stands up.
"I had-had enough. Now I (urp) hafttogo." He slurs.
The Australian proceeds to walk away, although there is a slight wobble with his walk. However doesn't walk far before bumping into someone.
"S-Sorry…mate…"
"Jett…?"
Jett blinks and a smile grows on his face.
"Hey! Mikkel…!" He says, giving the Dane a hug.
"Uh… hej…what are you going here?" Mikkel asks. He notices the haze in the Australian's eyes.
"Pfft…y'know…getting' some-some drinks…yeah…" Jett said.
"Care to join us Denmark?" Gilbert asks, raising a mug.
The next thing he knew, Jett found himself pushed down to the bed. Hazy emerald eyes looked up to equally hazy sapphire ones. Removing his shirt, Mikkel hovered over the Australian, knee slowly pushing Jett's legs apart.
A shiver ran through the Dane's back when he looked down at the half-naked Australian staring up at him with an inviting smile.
"What is it?" Jett asked as he ran his fingers over Mikkel's chest.
"I-I mean…this is so sudden…" The Dane murmured.
"I know…" Jett giggled.
"We've just meet!" Mikkel chuckled.
"I know!" The Australian laughs.
"…What if we don't remember this?" Mikkel asks softly, feeling uncertain.
"…Then let's make it count…" A kiss was planted gently on the Dane's lips.
But thing was, this kiss wasn't like the sloppy ones in the bar, or in the lobby, or in the elevator and most certainty not like the ones in the proceeding hotel corridor.
This one was different.
This one meant something.
As his lips departed from the Dane's a smile grew again on Jett's face.
"C'mon Denmark…" He says sensually.
Fingers idly float above Mikkel's belt.
"Show me Copenhagen…"
Jett opened his eyes.
Definitely busy…
A/N
Sooo...yeah...I uh...yeah...
I ship crack. Problem?
Anyway this idea came to me back in September...and I've been working on since then...
This is also on my dA & FF.Net account...so feel free to drop by for updates/stories there too...
Please excuse my attempts at writing...everyone. Espically Australia and Denmark >~>
Translations & Notes
de amis - Friends
Tienes razón - You're right
ami - Friend
Australie - Australia
La Grande-Bretagne - Britain
hej - Hey
- The teenager is my OC, don't worry - he's not going to steal the spotlight.
- I don't know his official age is, so Australia is like 27-29-ish in this fanfic.
Umm...it's M-preg soo... ^^;
Comment? Feedback?