[Hetalia] "That Damn Shirt"
Title: "That Damn Shirt"
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Canada/America
Word Count: 2,615
Rating: R18
Summary: America shows up to a meeting in a flannel shirt and Canada decides to remove it from him.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Original link: here.
Canada looked down at his watch, a little bit worried, it was unusual for America to be late for meetings. Unlike when he was late for meetings, America’s absence was noted, multiple times by multiple people. They had just decided to not wait any longer for him to show up when he burst in the door, grinning in an apologetic way.
“Sorry guys! My cell phone alarm didn’t go off and...”
“America! What are you wearing?” demanded England, giving the younger nation a fierce glare. America looked down at his own clothes as if he didn’t know what he had on. He plucked at the plaid flannel shirt.
“Yeah... uh... dry cleaner fire?”
“Dry cleaner fire.” England replied, sarcasm very evident in his voice.
“Yeah, all my clothes burned up, this is all I had left.” he said, continuing with the ridiculous story.
England looked about to retort but Germany cut him off. “America, can you please just take your seat so we can get started?” America nodded and sat down next to Canada with a smile. At least he had managed to remember his briefcase. Canada took in his appearance, understanding why England had gotten upset and Germany had looked like that vein in his forehead was going to pop. America was often underdressed for things, or his suits were rumpled, but his attire today blew any problems anyone may have had with his clothing choices in the past out of the water.
It all started with a blue plaid flannel shirt that wasn’t even buttoned properly over a white “wife-beater” style tank, to faded, slightly torn jeans. On his feet he was wearing sneakers. He looked like he should be sitting at home in his recliner watching a game, not sitting in a G8 meeting. And try as he might Canada could not stop staring at him. Luckily, America was in the direction of the speaker, that way he was at least facing the right direction in case someone decided to notice him.
The shirt had a hole a the back of the neck betraying America’s uneven tan, the pale skin teasing Canada and drawing his attention to the curved line of America’s neck as it either disappeared into his hair or into the shirt. America’s hair was sticking up a little bit in the back, proving his claim of having slept late and Canada longed to reach out and smooth it down, feeling the soft hair beneath his fingers, trailing his fingers down to that neck and sliding them beneath the collar...
America laughed suddenly breaking Canada’s thoughts, “Dude, Germany! I have such a better plan you have no idea!” He then proceeded to explain his “plan” that involved technology that didn’t quite exist yet. Somehow he got Japan on board and they began discussing the merits of humanoid technology. He hopped out of his seat and went to the white board beginning to thought map the plan. Canada looked him over, had America seriously forgotten his belt? Canada hoped that he was the only one that followed the way America’s loose jeans rode down on his hips revealing the top of his boxers, the ones with the eagles on them. He hoped no one noticed the blush that crept up his neck at the thought of what had happened the last time he had seen those boxers. Their owner was wearing decidedly less clothing and had been staring up at Canada with heat in his eyes, asking him to... Canada quickly crossed his legs and shifted in his chair trying to ease the pressure he was suddenly feeling down south at the memory.
The conversation seemed to last for ages, America talking animatedly and that damned shirt blowing in just the right way to reveal a bare shoulder here or a strip of skin there. Sometimes it would pull tight, revealing the muscle underneath. He could easily imagine the feeling of the soft skin beneath that stupid, white tank and the strength of the muscles beneath it as those arms wrapped around him and...
“Canada, are you feeling alright?”
Canada almost jumped out of his chair when France started speaking to him, he had been so focused on his southern neighbor. “Eh?”
“You look flushed.”
The observation made him even redder, he wracked his brain for an excuse, “Uh... it’s just been awhile since we had a break. I need some cool water.” France quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not say anything else, simply nodding his head in agreement. Canada focused on not being distracted by the way America’s jeans had slid even lower, if France knew about their relationship they would never hear the end of the suggestive comments. As much as he loved his older brother figure, he didn’t want to have to deal with the boxes of unmentionable objects and website links he’d inevitably be sent to “assist” him in his love life.
What seemed like ages later, Germany finally called for a break. Everyone filtered out of the room quickly, hoping to make it to a coffee cart or outside to get some air in the half hour they now had to themselves. Canada had no intention of being alone. He caught up with America in the hallway outside the conference room.
“America.”
“What’s up?” he asked, a look of surprise crossing his face as Canada grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hallway, opening the first door he could find and shoving the other nation in. He pulled the door shut behind him, plunging them into darkness. He achieved finding a light switch and the room was quickly bathed in weak yellow light. America had been flung into a pile of cleaning supplies in the small closet, a wide eyed expression on his face.
“Mattie, what...?” Before America could even finish, Canada descended on him, cutting of his words with a heated kiss.
“You just had to wear that damn outfit didn’t you?”
Before America could decide on a response Canada already had his mouth on America's dominating him with his tongue. America didn't take long to respond, pressing his tongue to Canada's and sucking on it. Canada got to work on the buttons of that blue flannel, he may have popped off two or three but they could deal with that later. He brushed the shirt off the southern nation's shoulders feeling that warm skin beneath. America moved to allow him to pull off the shirt, but Canada twisted it instead, trapping the American's arms behind his back. He pulled back slightly so he could take in what he'd accomplished so far.
America was flushed, glasses askew, his lips parted as he panted. Fire had grown in those blue eyes, and it made warmth pool in the pit of Canada’s stomach. America's tan really was uneven, the tan of his neck fading into paler skin around the edges of the undershirt he wore. It was still early in the summer season and America hadn’t been spending much time without a shirt on. Canada decided they would have to remedy that in the near future. He couldn't help himself, he lowered his head and tasted that flesh right where it started to fade from tan to pale. He grazed the spot with his teeth, sucking on it lightly, America gasped.
"Damn Mattie, I didn't realize you missed me so badly." America panted out, squirming now that the fingers of Canada's free hand were making their way under the edge of his tank across his abdomen.
"I probably could have waited if you had bothered to dress properly." he said, lips still brushing America's throat, as his fingers found a nipple and brushed across it, causing America to arch into him. He grinned at the strangled sound America made trying to keep quiet. It wouldn’t do to be walked in on, they really didn’t want to be added to the list of couples sexing it up on breaks.
"Like I said, it was a dry cleaner fire." The last syllable was gasped as Canada got a knee between the other man's legs and pressed. They didn't have long and he was pleased to find America half hard, his own pants already getting more uncomfortable.
"You're gonna stick to that story? It doesn't explain these." One harsh tug on the baggy jeans had them halfway off, revealing the eagle print boxers he had gotten a glimpse of before. They were the same ones and the mere memory of that time caused his body to react. He looked up to see America even more flushed, no doubt the same thought running through his mind.
Canada smiled sweetly at America as he brushed his fingers over the hem of his boxers, toying with the fabric. He brushed his fingers across the front, tracing the outlines of the birds that appeared over and over. His smile grew wider as America bit his lip to keep from making any sound.
“Shit, hurry up Mattie, we only have about 20 minutes left! There’s time for this foreplay business tonight!”
“Seriously, Al, my French blood is abhorred with you.”
“Do you think I care about your French blood? Ah...” America suddenly didn’t have much more to say as Canada applied pressure on his groin. He worked to slide the offending ripped jeans off the rest of the way, yanking off the ratty sneakers in the process. He pressed America backward into the wall, where there was a small shelf that was wide enough for him to sit on.
America made quite the sight, trembling and flushed. His legs were apart and the plaid shirt hanging off of his elbows. America pulled his own glasses off and then reached for Canada’s setting both pairs up high on a shelf so that nothing would happen to them. He grinned as he reached out to undo Canada’s tie, pulling it off his neck. Canada felt his pulse quicken as America’s fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, taking a surprising amount of care. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Canada’s, lips parted, tongue brushing across his lips. Canada met him in the kiss, pressing him backwards into the wall as America’s arms wrapped around his neck. America squeezed his thighs around his hips, rocking into him, causing Canada to gasp. The southern nation twined a hand into Canada’s hair pulling out of the kiss and whispering into his ear.
“Get on with it, Mattie.”
Canada didn’t have to be told twice as he pressed forward, kissing America fiercely as he dipped his hand below the hem of those idiotic boxers and brushed against the sensitive skin beneath. The other man gasped and leaned forward into him, encouraging Canada to wrap his fingers around him and brush the palm of his hand up and down. The sounds America was making were muffled by his kisses, but the sentiment was causing Canada to flush fiercely, desire building within him even more powerfully. He gripped the boxers roughly and backed away dragging them down America’s legs, then coming back to press a kiss to the edge of his hip. He moved America’s knees so they rested on his shoulders. He moved over and pressed his lips to the end of America’s member, taking the rest of it in his hand. America scrambled for purchase on the nearby shelves as he gasped. Canada really hoped none of it came toppling over on them as he took more of the other into his mouth, brushing his tongue along the length. He watched America’s eyes drift close as he fell silent. Canada smiled inwardly, he loved the feeling that he was the only one who could silence the, arguably, loudest nation in the world with a simple touch.
He worked up and down the other, drinking in the soft sounds and gasps that would escape America every so often. Canada watched him, as sweat beaded on his brow, and sweat dripped pleasingly off the other’s body. He ran a hand up the sensitive inside of America’s leg, pushing him even wider, fingertips drifting up over his hips and abdomen. America was trembling by now.
“Matt...” He gasped, reaching out and grabbing Canada by his errant hair. It was the request to hurry up, a silent admittance to being close. Canada pulled his mouth of him, slowly, teasing him the entire way. America squirmed, but a firm hand on his hip kept him from moving too far. Canada searched his pocket for the lubricant, blushing when America laughed at him, teasing him for the millionth time for planning a seduction. He shut him up quickly when he pressed into him with a quickly slicked finger. America fumbled around trying to undo the other’s pants, but not quite succeeding due to the awkward position. Canada shifted, using his free hand to undo his pants and free himself. His body shivered in anticipation, as America took him hand, stroking him as Canada continued to stretch and prepare him.
“Ready?” he asked, getting needy moan in response. He lined up and pushed in without much ceremony, knowing America could handle it. They both gasped at the feeling of becoming connected, bodies so close. Canada pressed his face into America’s shoulder, smelling the sunshine smell of his skin, tasting the salty sweat beading on the skin. America rolled his hips in impatience and Canada gave in, pushing into him as he sucked at the skin of the other’s collarbone as America wrapped his arms around Canada’s back.
Each movement and each place their skin touched felt like fire to Canada. Pleasant, all consuming fire. And it was his, all his. He ran his tongue along the mark he had made, the symbol of ownership there. He shifted his hips, trying to find the best angle and he soon had America clutching him tightly and he felt the heat pool in his own stomach, building and building then... all of the emotions he had been feeling since he saw the other in that sexy, ratty shirt and those stupid boxer shorts releasing, feeling the other tensing as well and releasing.
When they had finished they sat still for a moment, just listening to the other breath and regaining their bearings. They tidied up and dressed in silence, willing their minds from the other and back to the meeting they needed to return to. As Canada placed his hand on the doorknob he felt himself being grabbed backwards, as America descended on his mouth in a rough kiss. When he was finished, it took Canada a moment to remember to breathe.
“Payback Mattie, for the sneak attack. You won’t know where and you won’t know when, but next time your ass is mine.”
Canada just smiled at him, “I look forward to it, Al. Finding out if you can sneak up on me that is.” They exited the closet and headed back to the conference room. They took their seats silently, and Canada once again had to will the dirty things he wanted to do to the nation next to him out of his mind. He was temporarily distracted as France slid a small note over to him.
Cool drink of water, indeed. Although he is quite beautiful, my boy. I suppose I can approve. However, I expect some details next time we talk. I have some things I could teach you.
Canada quickly crumpled the message blushing fiercely. How did he figure it out? Then again, France did have ways...
France just grinned a knowing smile, both of them would soon be getting a talk from Big Brother France.
Author: shuriken7
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Canada/America
Word Count: 2,615
Rating: R18
Summary: America shows up to a meeting in a flannel shirt and Canada decides to remove it from him.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Original link: here.
Canada looked down at his watch, a little bit worried, it was unusual for America to be late for meetings. Unlike when he was late for meetings, America’s absence was noted, multiple times by multiple people. They had just decided to not wait any longer for him to show up when he burst in the door, grinning in an apologetic way.
“Sorry guys! My cell phone alarm didn’t go off and...”
“America! What are you wearing?” demanded England, giving the younger nation a fierce glare. America looked down at his own clothes as if he didn’t know what he had on. He plucked at the plaid flannel shirt.
“Yeah... uh... dry cleaner fire?”
“Dry cleaner fire.” England replied, sarcasm very evident in his voice.
“Yeah, all my clothes burned up, this is all I had left.” he said, continuing with the ridiculous story.
England looked about to retort but Germany cut him off. “America, can you please just take your seat so we can get started?” America nodded and sat down next to Canada with a smile. At least he had managed to remember his briefcase. Canada took in his appearance, understanding why England had gotten upset and Germany had looked like that vein in his forehead was going to pop. America was often underdressed for things, or his suits were rumpled, but his attire today blew any problems anyone may have had with his clothing choices in the past out of the water.
It all started with a blue plaid flannel shirt that wasn’t even buttoned properly over a white “wife-beater” style tank, to faded, slightly torn jeans. On his feet he was wearing sneakers. He looked like he should be sitting at home in his recliner watching a game, not sitting in a G8 meeting. And try as he might Canada could not stop staring at him. Luckily, America was in the direction of the speaker, that way he was at least facing the right direction in case someone decided to notice him.
The shirt had a hole a the back of the neck betraying America’s uneven tan, the pale skin teasing Canada and drawing his attention to the curved line of America’s neck as it either disappeared into his hair or into the shirt. America’s hair was sticking up a little bit in the back, proving his claim of having slept late and Canada longed to reach out and smooth it down, feeling the soft hair beneath his fingers, trailing his fingers down to that neck and sliding them beneath the collar...
America laughed suddenly breaking Canada’s thoughts, “Dude, Germany! I have such a better plan you have no idea!” He then proceeded to explain his “plan” that involved technology that didn’t quite exist yet. Somehow he got Japan on board and they began discussing the merits of humanoid technology. He hopped out of his seat and went to the white board beginning to thought map the plan. Canada looked him over, had America seriously forgotten his belt? Canada hoped that he was the only one that followed the way America’s loose jeans rode down on his hips revealing the top of his boxers, the ones with the eagles on them. He hoped no one noticed the blush that crept up his neck at the thought of what had happened the last time he had seen those boxers. Their owner was wearing decidedly less clothing and had been staring up at Canada with heat in his eyes, asking him to... Canada quickly crossed his legs and shifted in his chair trying to ease the pressure he was suddenly feeling down south at the memory.
The conversation seemed to last for ages, America talking animatedly and that damned shirt blowing in just the right way to reveal a bare shoulder here or a strip of skin there. Sometimes it would pull tight, revealing the muscle underneath. He could easily imagine the feeling of the soft skin beneath that stupid, white tank and the strength of the muscles beneath it as those arms wrapped around him and...
“Canada, are you feeling alright?”
Canada almost jumped out of his chair when France started speaking to him, he had been so focused on his southern neighbor. “Eh?”
“You look flushed.”
The observation made him even redder, he wracked his brain for an excuse, “Uh... it’s just been awhile since we had a break. I need some cool water.” France quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not say anything else, simply nodding his head in agreement. Canada focused on not being distracted by the way America’s jeans had slid even lower, if France knew about their relationship they would never hear the end of the suggestive comments. As much as he loved his older brother figure, he didn’t want to have to deal with the boxes of unmentionable objects and website links he’d inevitably be sent to “assist” him in his love life.
What seemed like ages later, Germany finally called for a break. Everyone filtered out of the room quickly, hoping to make it to a coffee cart or outside to get some air in the half hour they now had to themselves. Canada had no intention of being alone. He caught up with America in the hallway outside the conference room.
“America.”
“What’s up?” he asked, a look of surprise crossing his face as Canada grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hallway, opening the first door he could find and shoving the other nation in. He pulled the door shut behind him, plunging them into darkness. He achieved finding a light switch and the room was quickly bathed in weak yellow light. America had been flung into a pile of cleaning supplies in the small closet, a wide eyed expression on his face.
“Mattie, what...?” Before America could even finish, Canada descended on him, cutting of his words with a heated kiss.
“You just had to wear that damn outfit didn’t you?”
Before America could decide on a response Canada already had his mouth on America's dominating him with his tongue. America didn't take long to respond, pressing his tongue to Canada's and sucking on it. Canada got to work on the buttons of that blue flannel, he may have popped off two or three but they could deal with that later. He brushed the shirt off the southern nation's shoulders feeling that warm skin beneath. America moved to allow him to pull off the shirt, but Canada twisted it instead, trapping the American's arms behind his back. He pulled back slightly so he could take in what he'd accomplished so far.
America was flushed, glasses askew, his lips parted as he panted. Fire had grown in those blue eyes, and it made warmth pool in the pit of Canada’s stomach. America's tan really was uneven, the tan of his neck fading into paler skin around the edges of the undershirt he wore. It was still early in the summer season and America hadn’t been spending much time without a shirt on. Canada decided they would have to remedy that in the near future. He couldn't help himself, he lowered his head and tasted that flesh right where it started to fade from tan to pale. He grazed the spot with his teeth, sucking on it lightly, America gasped.
"Damn Mattie, I didn't realize you missed me so badly." America panted out, squirming now that the fingers of Canada's free hand were making their way under the edge of his tank across his abdomen.
"I probably could have waited if you had bothered to dress properly." he said, lips still brushing America's throat, as his fingers found a nipple and brushed across it, causing America to arch into him. He grinned at the strangled sound America made trying to keep quiet. It wouldn’t do to be walked in on, they really didn’t want to be added to the list of couples sexing it up on breaks.
"Like I said, it was a dry cleaner fire." The last syllable was gasped as Canada got a knee between the other man's legs and pressed. They didn't have long and he was pleased to find America half hard, his own pants already getting more uncomfortable.
"You're gonna stick to that story? It doesn't explain these." One harsh tug on the baggy jeans had them halfway off, revealing the eagle print boxers he had gotten a glimpse of before. They were the same ones and the mere memory of that time caused his body to react. He looked up to see America even more flushed, no doubt the same thought running through his mind.
Canada smiled sweetly at America as he brushed his fingers over the hem of his boxers, toying with the fabric. He brushed his fingers across the front, tracing the outlines of the birds that appeared over and over. His smile grew wider as America bit his lip to keep from making any sound.
“Shit, hurry up Mattie, we only have about 20 minutes left! There’s time for this foreplay business tonight!”
“Seriously, Al, my French blood is abhorred with you.”
“Do you think I care about your French blood? Ah...” America suddenly didn’t have much more to say as Canada applied pressure on his groin. He worked to slide the offending ripped jeans off the rest of the way, yanking off the ratty sneakers in the process. He pressed America backward into the wall, where there was a small shelf that was wide enough for him to sit on.
America made quite the sight, trembling and flushed. His legs were apart and the plaid shirt hanging off of his elbows. America pulled his own glasses off and then reached for Canada’s setting both pairs up high on a shelf so that nothing would happen to them. He grinned as he reached out to undo Canada’s tie, pulling it off his neck. Canada felt his pulse quicken as America’s fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, taking a surprising amount of care. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Canada’s, lips parted, tongue brushing across his lips. Canada met him in the kiss, pressing him backwards into the wall as America’s arms wrapped around his neck. America squeezed his thighs around his hips, rocking into him, causing Canada to gasp. The southern nation twined a hand into Canada’s hair pulling out of the kiss and whispering into his ear.
“Get on with it, Mattie.”
Canada didn’t have to be told twice as he pressed forward, kissing America fiercely as he dipped his hand below the hem of those idiotic boxers and brushed against the sensitive skin beneath. The other man gasped and leaned forward into him, encouraging Canada to wrap his fingers around him and brush the palm of his hand up and down. The sounds America was making were muffled by his kisses, but the sentiment was causing Canada to flush fiercely, desire building within him even more powerfully. He gripped the boxers roughly and backed away dragging them down America’s legs, then coming back to press a kiss to the edge of his hip. He moved America’s knees so they rested on his shoulders. He moved over and pressed his lips to the end of America’s member, taking the rest of it in his hand. America scrambled for purchase on the nearby shelves as he gasped. Canada really hoped none of it came toppling over on them as he took more of the other into his mouth, brushing his tongue along the length. He watched America’s eyes drift close as he fell silent. Canada smiled inwardly, he loved the feeling that he was the only one who could silence the, arguably, loudest nation in the world with a simple touch.
He worked up and down the other, drinking in the soft sounds and gasps that would escape America every so often. Canada watched him, as sweat beaded on his brow, and sweat dripped pleasingly off the other’s body. He ran a hand up the sensitive inside of America’s leg, pushing him even wider, fingertips drifting up over his hips and abdomen. America was trembling by now.
“Matt...” He gasped, reaching out and grabbing Canada by his errant hair. It was the request to hurry up, a silent admittance to being close. Canada pulled his mouth of him, slowly, teasing him the entire way. America squirmed, but a firm hand on his hip kept him from moving too far. Canada searched his pocket for the lubricant, blushing when America laughed at him, teasing him for the millionth time for planning a seduction. He shut him up quickly when he pressed into him with a quickly slicked finger. America fumbled around trying to undo the other’s pants, but not quite succeeding due to the awkward position. Canada shifted, using his free hand to undo his pants and free himself. His body shivered in anticipation, as America took him hand, stroking him as Canada continued to stretch and prepare him.
“Ready?” he asked, getting needy moan in response. He lined up and pushed in without much ceremony, knowing America could handle it. They both gasped at the feeling of becoming connected, bodies so close. Canada pressed his face into America’s shoulder, smelling the sunshine smell of his skin, tasting the salty sweat beading on the skin. America rolled his hips in impatience and Canada gave in, pushing into him as he sucked at the skin of the other’s collarbone as America wrapped his arms around Canada’s back.
Each movement and each place their skin touched felt like fire to Canada. Pleasant, all consuming fire. And it was his, all his. He ran his tongue along the mark he had made, the symbol of ownership there. He shifted his hips, trying to find the best angle and he soon had America clutching him tightly and he felt the heat pool in his own stomach, building and building then... all of the emotions he had been feeling since he saw the other in that sexy, ratty shirt and those stupid boxer shorts releasing, feeling the other tensing as well and releasing.
When they had finished they sat still for a moment, just listening to the other breath and regaining their bearings. They tidied up and dressed in silence, willing their minds from the other and back to the meeting they needed to return to. As Canada placed his hand on the doorknob he felt himself being grabbed backwards, as America descended on his mouth in a rough kiss. When he was finished, it took Canada a moment to remember to breathe.
“Payback Mattie, for the sneak attack. You won’t know where and you won’t know when, but next time your ass is mine.”
Canada just smiled at him, “I look forward to it, Al. Finding out if you can sneak up on me that is.” They exited the closet and headed back to the conference room. They took their seats silently, and Canada once again had to will the dirty things he wanted to do to the nation next to him out of his mind. He was temporarily distracted as France slid a small note over to him.
Cool drink of water, indeed. Although he is quite beautiful, my boy. I suppose I can approve. However, I expect some details next time we talk. I have some things I could teach you.
Canada quickly crumpled the message blushing fiercely. How did he figure it out? Then again, France did have ways...
France just grinned a knowing smile, both of them would soon be getting a talk from Big Brother France.