[fan fic] The Next Morning
Title: The Next Morning
Characters/Parings: Australia, Fiji, and copious mentions of New Zealand. Australia/Fiji.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Content. This is a morning-after fic.
Summary: Australia and Fiji make a tenative next step.
Australia was not sure what had possessed him to call Fiji back to bed. After all, this was not their first, nor would it be their last, one night stand. He was used to waking up to find Fiji gone, or leaving when it was her bed he was sleeping in.
Nothing the previous night had been any different. They’d been sniping at each after a Commonwealth meeting in the hotel lounge, and snipes turned to an outright fistfight into a hot, rough make-out session, and they’d stumbled into Australia’s hotel room and had angry, rough sex. It always happened that way. They gravitated towards each other and then their conflicting, strong personalities meant they fought viciously.
This time, however, Australia was awake when Fiji rolled out of bed with a subdued yawn, and maybe that’s what made this morning different. She picked up her clothes and then, realising they were in no state to be worn, even on the short walk to her own room, went towards the bathroom instead.
“Feej,” he’d whispered weakly, and then a second time, stronger, “Feej.” She’d turned to look at him, all surprise and bruised dark skin and achy muscles. “C’mover here.”
And left him where he was, laying in bed, looking at Fiji looking at him, wondering if she was going to come back under the covers with him. He let out a slow breath as she blinked once, twice, three times.
Then Fiji turned fully and went back to her side of the bed, and slipped under the heavy comforter but over the messy sheets. Australia’s heart soared despite himself.
“’M too damn tired to take a shower yet, get me up in half-n-hour or somethin’,” Fiji said into the pillow, not looking at Australia but not denying his presence either.
“I will if I don’t fall asleep first,” Australia replied, wriggling as close as he dared to the woman next to him. He couldn’t hold her close or stroke her back, which were strange New Zealand-esque sappy romantic things he normally didn’t even consider, despite the strong impulse to do so that morning. So he took in the smell of her thick, messy hair, of sweat and sex and the last lingering hints of mango shampoo. He hated the smell of mangoes quite a bit, but couldn’t bring himself to feel more nauseated than he already felt thanks to his gushy way of acting.
God, he was behaving more like his blushing virgin, bird-brained brother every day.
Characters/Parings: Australia, Fiji, and copious mentions of New Zealand. Australia/Fiji.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Content. This is a morning-after fic.
Summary: Australia and Fiji make a tenative next step.
Australia was not sure what had possessed him to call Fiji back to bed. After all, this was not their first, nor would it be their last, one night stand. He was used to waking up to find Fiji gone, or leaving when it was her bed he was sleeping in.
Nothing the previous night had been any different. They’d been sniping at each after a Commonwealth meeting in the hotel lounge, and snipes turned to an outright fistfight into a hot, rough make-out session, and they’d stumbled into Australia’s hotel room and had angry, rough sex. It always happened that way. They gravitated towards each other and then their conflicting, strong personalities meant they fought viciously.
This time, however, Australia was awake when Fiji rolled out of bed with a subdued yawn, and maybe that’s what made this morning different. She picked up her clothes and then, realising they were in no state to be worn, even on the short walk to her own room, went towards the bathroom instead.
“Feej,” he’d whispered weakly, and then a second time, stronger, “Feej.” She’d turned to look at him, all surprise and bruised dark skin and achy muscles. “C’mover here.”
And left him where he was, laying in bed, looking at Fiji looking at him, wondering if she was going to come back under the covers with him. He let out a slow breath as she blinked once, twice, three times.
Then Fiji turned fully and went back to her side of the bed, and slipped under the heavy comforter but over the messy sheets. Australia’s heart soared despite himself.
“’M too damn tired to take a shower yet, get me up in half-n-hour or somethin’,” Fiji said into the pillow, not looking at Australia but not denying his presence either.
“I will if I don’t fall asleep first,” Australia replied, wriggling as close as he dared to the woman next to him. He couldn’t hold her close or stroke her back, which were strange New Zealand-esque sappy romantic things he normally didn’t even consider, despite the strong impulse to do so that morning. So he took in the smell of her thick, messy hair, of sweat and sex and the last lingering hints of mango shampoo. He hated the smell of mangoes quite a bit, but couldn’t bring himself to feel more nauseated than he already felt thanks to his gushy way of acting.
God, he was behaving more like his blushing virgin, bird-brained brother every day.