[FanFic] Longest Holiday (6/?!?!)
I LIVE. THIS FIC LIVE. I also have a trouble posting this for some strange reason.
Finished Chapters (this is cleaner):
1 | 2 | 3 | Antonio's Special Interlude - Mi Hija Las Islas Filipinas | Alfred's Special Interlude - A Hero's Conflict | 4 | 5.01 - 5.02
Title: Longest Holiday (6/???)
Author: silentside
Beta: seikochan
Characters: OC!Female PH-tan (Ma.Salome), Lucky!Canada, OhPoor!America, ReallyEmbarrassed!England, Francebeing!France, ReallySeriousFatherly!Spain. Traumatized!China and Perplexed!Japan making brief cameos.
Genre: Light Romance / Drama / Comedy
Rating: T/slightly R-ish
Warning: Drunken Nations having major hangovers and getting caught in awkward situations = F U N ! Who needs a bloody warning for this?
Chapter Summary: "Women are like teabags, Arthur," Alfred pointed out, "--You never know how strong they are until they're placed in hot water."
Arthur lifted his brows, looking up from the tea he was drinking; it was certainly quite a remarkable quote coming from him.
"You didn't think of that, did you?"
"Yeah, it's from my boss Franklin's wife, Eleanor."
(P.S. Chapter summary has little to do with the story, srsly.)
----
Author’s note: I didn’t update last week because I have to get out the stress from the AOF hetalia cosplay out of my system to be replaced with work stress this week. GAH.
Pt.06 - Truth in whine
Francis's Room
¡Ah, Mierda!
Antonio silently cursed as he opened his eyes, only for them to be stung by the prisms of strong sunlight drifting into the room. What time is it? It's probably almost noon!
He tried covering his eyes to shield them from the sun's intrusive rays, only to find he couldn’t move them. Then, reality slowly started to sink in: he was lying on Francis's bed. Both of his fists and ankles were tied to the bedposts, and he found himself gagged by the Frenchman’s pink floral-print kerchief. Frantically he struggled, trying to let out a muffled scream, only to feel a heavy crushing pain in his lower left jaw.
Then, the memories of last night’s ‘get together’ came flooding back to him: he remembered drinking too much wine because he could never have his fill with Francis’s food, and then the very loud and drunk Alfred accidentally slipped out how he ‘liberated Sally’s vital regions’ in 1945. And from there on, everything he saw became red.
That hijo de puta! He silently raged, clenching his fists tightly. This explained why his Salome had her strange clingy moments with the American. Now if he could just get out of his awkward predicament-
Antonio felt something move against him, making him realize that he was not the only one in the bed. Feeling the damp gushing of air on his naked torso, he dreadfully looked down to see a very unconscious Francis lying face down and salivating near his crotch.
“!!!”
--
Wang Yao was about to leave his room for the early afternoon briefing when his phone rang. The line bleeping seemed to come from Francis’s place. He did not get much rest the previous night since he had spent the entire evening looking for Salome, and he was certainly not in a genial mood right now.
“Francis, what is it this time, aru?” he answered irritatedly, “I’m not going to supply you with THAT if that’s what you called for, aru!”
“¡Yao, viene aquí y me ayuda!” came a muffled desperate cry on the other line. “-
Mierda, I mean, come here, help me! Yao!”
Stunned, it took Yao a minute to recognize the language. “Antonio, aru? What’s going on? What happened to Francis, aru?”
“JUST COME AND HELP ME OUT OF HERE!”
--
“Oh Pi---w-what the hell HAPPENED here, aru?!?”
Yao wished he would never have to enter Francis’s room, but Antonio’s desperate call for help made him think it was a matter of life and death-he had broken the door with a rifle on hand.
Now he couldn’t unsee what was in front of him. The Spaniard was bound to Francis’s bed with only his gag loosened from his mouth, and the way Yao saw it, it seemed as if he just banged his head to hit whatever number he could on Francis’s speed dial. On the other hand, the amorous Frenchman was lying down passed out on Antonio’s exposed torso, his face looking quite snug on his crotch. He also saw Alfred F. Jones looking strangely comfortable dozing off when he, in fact, had gone through a chair.
And was that Arthur lying down on the floor in a skimpy Wonder Woman costume?
He. Could. Not. Unsee. That. EVER.
“Yao!” Antonio gasped, “-untie me, please!”
“You owe me for this one, aru!” he grumbled as he angrily started to untie Antonio’s fists from the bedposts. “You Europeans! Do you always like giving me culture shock, aru?”
“I’m sorry, Yao.” Antonio apologized, sitting up and rubbing his swollen wrists. “I swear this is not what you think it is. We just had a little too much to drink.”
“I can see that, aru.” He nodded grimly in Francis’s direction. Antonio tried shoving him off, but the half-conscious Frenchman ended up clinging to his waist.
“F-Francia! Let me go, stop---stop touching me!”
“Oh Mon Ami, but I ‘ave always been touching you---!” he blurted out, and then slipped back to unconsciousness. “-geographically.”
“---de puta ma---Let go of me!”
“Noooon, vous avez fermé vers le haut, vous pédophile tomate-affectueux~”
“Pedophile!?”
Yao sighed and went inside the bathroom. He returned with a small bucket of water and threw the contents on the Frenchman. In no time, Francis shrieked, jumped up and started shaking the water out of his hair like an angry soaked feline.
“Merde! What was that for?”
“You tied me up! ¡Pervertido!” Antonio snapped back, his face a bit red.
“---and you won’t let go of his crotch, aru.”
“I’m lying on your crotch?” Francis asked, and then turned towards Yao for a second, “Wait-how the hell did you get in here?- wait, I was lying on your crotch?”
“Do I have to repeat myself twice? YES!”
It was at that moment that Francis’ face blanched, and he started uttering something in French before cringing at nearest bedpost. Antonio had been in Francis’ company for such a long time that he could understand at least a few words, and he managed to make out something about “dream”, “snuggling” and “juicy tomatoes.”
He certainly did not want to know.
“Just what the hell happened last night here, aru?” Yao could help but question, even though his inner voice told him he was better off not knowing.
“It’s kind of complicated.” Antonio muttered, rubbing his sore jaw. “I got into a little fight with Alfred-it’s a long story.”
“Little fight, Antonio?” Francis twitched, referring to the Spaniard with his actual name, which he only ever did when he started to get angry. He turned around with an expression of someone who was either about to laugh or strangle a human being, “A little fight?! You went all fucking bloody conquistador! YOU NEARLY DESTROYED THE ENTIRE ROOM! MY BEAUTIFUL AND MAGNIFICENT ROOM! IT TOOK ALL THREE OF US TO JUST TIE YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU STOP, AHHHHHHHRRRGGHHH!”
“Pucha, look who started serving wine and got us all drunk!” Antonio retorted, giving Francis a hard glare before kicking him off the bed.
The Frenchman clambered back, “IT WASN’T PART OF THE PLANNN! You know the plan - you wouldn’t get drunk, Amerique would! He would get so piss drunk that we could make him talk!”
“Oh, he talked, alright, and I would do what I did EVEN if I wasn’t drunk just hearing what he said about my hija!”
“Well, in that, you nearly succeeded, mon ami. Maybe you can try being diplomatic now?” he pointed towards Alfred’s direction. One of Francis’s chairs was stuck around the American, who was, in fact, looking like he was enjoying his sleep.
“Just be glad I have a hangover!...ow…my jaw!”
Yao made a mental note when he entered Francis’s room that it looked like it was hit by a hurricane. Although he had known Antonio since his golden age of colonial rule, he had never seen the man’s wrath: there was an unspoken leniency between them for as far as the time he monopolized Salome’s trading relations.
“What’s with Salome, aru?” he asked, “Did anything happen to her, aru?”
“No, mon ami, it’s---“
“I haven’t seen since her yesterday in her room, aru,” Yao added, his voice sounding worried. “She was supposed to meet me yesterday afternoon for tea and I tried looking for her outside last night, but I couldn’t find her anywhere, aru.”
The two paused in their arguing and turned to Yao.
“S-she went missing?!?” Antonio reacted, forgetting his sore jaw. His face became alit with concern. “That hijo de puta! It’s his fault!”
“N-not entirely like that, Aru!” Yao waved his hands frantically as he saw the man’s expression slowly darken, “I went back to her room after the search, aru. I saw Yong Soo passed out from drinking too many beers - it looks like they spent a karaoke session in her room, aru.”
“Ah! See, there is nothing to worry about!” Francis exclaimed, giving Antonio a light slap on the shoulder. “The mademoiselle just had a karaoke night----”
“What kind of cervesa?”
Wang Yao gave him a perplexed look.
“What kind of beer?” Antonio asked again.
“Budweiser, aru,” Yao replied. No sooner than he finished his words did Antonio attempt to leap out of the bed, only to fall face down flat---his right foot was still bound. He cursed loudly and tried getting Francis to untie the knot.
“W-what does this have to do with the beer, aru?”
“If my hija keeps beer, it will only be San Miguel!” he panicked, pulling his loose drawstring pants to his waist as he tried to stand up. “Certainly someone else aside from Yong Soo is with her! She wouldn’t just leave somebody lying wasted in her room! She goes ballistic!”
“---You don’t have to worry about that, aru!” Yao said, trying to placate the Spaniard. “I will get somebody to check on her, aru. Most likely Yong Soo is already sober and awake at this time of the day, aru.”
“What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost 2 pm, aru.”
“IT’S ALMOST 2 PM!?!” came a sudden shout from behind Francis and Antonio. The voice was followed by a strained grumbling sound. “Oh, bloody hangover, I will kill that bastard.”
Arthur was standing up with his left hand clutching his forehead and was also temporarily unaware that he was still wearing the skimpy Wonder Woman outfit. The sight of his hairy legs and something else sent Yao beyond his tolerance limit and in no time, he was screaming and rushing out of the door.
“Did I just hear someone screaming curses in Chinese?” he wondered out loud, still oblivious of what he is wearing while rubbing his sinus and laying his other hand on his sore behind. Arthur felt a deep crease in the clothing and probed deeper to feel a sticky substance between his fingers. His green eyes slowly narrowed in realization as the events of last night started to come back to him.
“Yes, Yao…dropped by.”
“Well, and good afternoon to you too, beautiful~”
“Francia…!”
--
If holding off a drunken conquistador Antonio was like trying to control a person possessed by a thousand demons, a thoroughly embarrassed and enraged Arthur practically brought back the swashbuckling pirate days. With the two having not so fond memories of him during the colonial era, placating Pirate Mode!Arthur took them a mere thirty minutes. After wiping his sweaty brow, Antonio exclaimed that he had never felt so exhausted, yet at the same time felt so damn good as he held Arthur in a tight head grip, and Francis grinned that it was a good thing that Gilbert’s costume worked towards Arthur’s disadvantage: the defeated blonde was caught in an embarrassing and painful contorted wedgie.
In a few minutes, Alfred woke up, stumbled recklessly with the furniture around him and started screaming about wanting to scratch his eyes out. But the two barely noticed the American, as they were all too busy tackling and humiliating Arthur down on the floor for a few minutes more.
“¡De Puttaaa Madreeee! Who conquers you now?!”
“-Look, L’Espagne, I think I grabbed some tomatoes!”
“You let go of my-mfff! You bloody wank-,mmfff!”
“I wish La Prusse was awake with ze camera! Look, who ze ass-ass-in!”
Desperately, Arthur’s eyes darted wildly across the floor in a search for anything he could bash Antonio’s head with before he was thoroughly molested by Francis from behind. A couple of the wine bottles rolled in his direction and he got a glimpse of the labels.
Ferrari Perle Nerò, Grappa Solero
That wasn’t even French! It was Italian!
Then he remembered an embarrassing scenario from this year’s G8 conference of which Veneziano was the current host nation: Ivan Braginsky had gotten so drunk from drinking too much wine that the small Italian reluctantly had to support the wobbling, snickering Russian all the way to his vehicle when they were all done for the day. It astounded everybody who had never thought such fine wine from Italy would be his weakness. Ferrari Perle Nerò and Grappa Solero were a few of the wines that were served.
Grabbing one of the bottles, Arthur swung it with all his might towards Antonio’s head.
---
Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlights people, living just to find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night.
Matthew woke up from what he thought was the music playing in the background of his strange yet beautiful dream. It just happened to be the radio alarm. Darn.
Although slightly tipsy from drinking too much beer, he remembered hanging out with Maria all night and singing karaoke until Yong Soo passed out on the floor. Taking her outside, he shared his local delicacies and showed her the wonderful Christmas display that they would put up this year. He remembered her sweet sampaguita scent when he held her close as she broke down and cried as he finally admitted that he knew of her traumatic plight during the Typhoon Ketsana. He offered his savings that he had kept safe in an empty maple syrup bottle all this time. At that point, everything ceased to be real.
It was a strange yet beautiful dream-
She wiped her tears away, and like an excited child, tugged him by his sleeve, held his hand and lead him out of the maze of corridors that never seemed to end before bursting outside into the open field. It got him a little dizzy and he tripped; she caught him and they both fell down, rolling on the small grassy knoll towards the hotel entrance. They were laughing like crazy, and she pulled his glasses off as they lay down side-by-side. Everything in his vision started to turn into a colorful kaleidoscope of blurry lights.
Maria---my glasses! Maria…!
Kuya, if you are not entirely blind, that’s okay naman ! You won’t get mistaken as Kuya Alfred this time!
Where are you taking me, Maria?
It’s a surprise too!
It was all a haze----some scenes would slow down, and then suddenly there would be flashes of bright lights and everything would surge forward. He remembered Maria taking him to a festive place where people had all born warm smiles as they drank San Miguel beer merrily (which she thought was one of the good things her Papa had reluctantly consented to). They drank-they ran and tumbled towards gazebos and dance merrily on the fountains while trying to duck from the water shooting out several feet into the air.
Gazebos, large fountains, fiesta---
Where had Maria taken him anyway?
Grumbling, Matthew lazily stretched out his arm and tried slamming the radio alarm shut. He couldn’t reach it-his vision was blurry and he gave the table a long stare so that he could at least aim for it.
Then he realized it wasn’t his table.
Behind the radio alarm was a small statuette of the Virgin Mother Mary and Her Child. His gaze wandered farther behind it and saw a small pair of foil star lanterns attached to the cream colored walls. His eyes widened and he turned around, quickly bolting up from the bed.
----Maria’s room!
Matthew felt his neck hair stand up as a wave of cold air-conditioned wind touched his skin. He looked down in horror to realize that, except for a pair of red boxers, he was naked underneath the thick white bed sheets. Panicking, he tried to look for his glasses. Fumbling at the sheets and scattering items on the bedside table, the only thing running through his mind at that moment was to get dressed immediately and leave the room before Maria woke up…or came back.
Relax, Matthew Williams, you still have your underpants on. Nothing happened. Nothing you’re scared of could have happened last night. There is nothing to worry about. But, oh god, what if we almost went to third base?! He thought frantically, vaguely remembering the parts where they were rolling down the grassy knoll just outside the building and swaying in the gazebos, singing to their “Maru Kaite Chikyuu”s. He might have taken too much of that San Miguel beer.
She was going to hate him, that’s for sure. Being mistaken for his moron brother was one thing, but being compared to Alfred was another. That cocky bastard had the nerve to boast that “he had her first” and that he would never know how “she tastes like” and all the inappropriate things he had uttered while they were waiting for Maria at the corridor hall yesterday. He could do more than graze a shoe to his ear, and he wanted to. Alfred probably knew her more than he ever did, but nobody deserved to hear their secrets being told that way. Alfred’s obvious lack of tact, disregard to other’s personal issues and blatant display of arrogance at that time clearly stated the obvious: he was jealous of him.
“Oh, good, Kuya! You are awake na!”
“MARIA!” Startled, the blonde turned around, turning red and quickly drawing the bedsheets over his nakedness. “You are here-! I mean you are awake! I mean-well it’s your room, I-I’m…”
Matthew couldn’t see anything except her blurred form in a colorful loose garment approaching him quickly. Seeing that there was no way he could make himself disappear through the sheets, Maria reached him and shoved him back against the bed, and just before he could shield his head with his arms, she lightly placed his glasses over his eyes.
He could see her clearly now.
“You idiot,” she grinned, her deep brown eyes smiling as she tapped his head gently. “You passed out last night in front of my room soaking wet! I had to remove your clothes or you would have gotten a cold! I hope you didn’t mind that I had to take off your glasses---you nearly broke them!”
“Uhm, thanks.” He replied shyly, adjusting his glasses. “Maria-about last night, nothing happened. Right?”
“Something happened.”
He choked.
“It was a BLAST!” she exclaimed, nearly sending a half-naked Matthew to the carpeted floor. “Who knew that you could party so hard, even with your sprained ankle! I was pretty worried when you dragged me to the town’s park. You almost threw up on the fountains!”
“I thought you were the one who dragged me there!”
“No, I took you to the Filipino district nearby. We continued our karaoke session there! Then you dragged me to the park!”
He remembered the San Miguel beer-after three bottles he felt his head being hammered while they were singing a duet rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.
No wonder he thought he was dreaming few minutes ago. He turned the radio alarm off.
“T-there is a Filipino district here?”
“Just like Kuya Yao has a Chinatown everywhere! It’s several blocks away from our Hotel.”
“How did we even get there?!”
“Um, I hailed a cab.”
“I don’t remember riding a cab!”
Maria let out loud boisterous laughter, clutching her sides as she did. Matthew realized he was being a worrywart again and started to laugh with her as well. He was relieved that nothing had happened between them intimate-wise and that they had both enjoyed each other’s company for the entire night. Sure, he didn’t remember some details, but it was one of the most thrilling and fun joyrides he had ever had in recent times. Ever.
“Say Maria, what time is it?” he scratched his head, getting distracted by Maria’s clothing: a very colorful loose, lightweight, sleeveless housecoat. “There will be a short briefing this afternoon. I need to be there---”
“It’s already 2 in the afternoon, actually,” she replied as she got off the bed, tying her hair swiftly into a ponytail before twisting it into a small bun.
She is lovelier with hair cascading down her shoulders---
Setting himself loose from his reverie, he gaped at her, his big blue eyes widening. “I-IT’S ALREADY AFTERNOON?!?” Matthew quickly jumped off the bed, scurrying around the floor frantically in search of his clothes. “I was asleep that long?! The meeting will start at four! Oh, dear!”
Maria was strangely calm as she headed to the room’s small adjoining kitchen. He could smell something fried with garlic. “Kuya, you drank so much last night that you slept like the dead!” she called out while scooping something out of a pan. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I let you sleep! And it’s still 4 pm pa naman-have some brunch, at least!”
Matthew found only a pair of socks, with one of them stuck underneath the door. He carefully opened it, only to be greeted by a stunned Honda Kiku walking across the hall, having just bought manga from the hotel’s bookstore.
Both being too shocked to see each other so unexpectedly, the taciturn nation was the first to speak.
“R-Resolving the Visiting Forces Agreement issue---Alfred-san?”
Realizing he was naked save for his red boxers, the Canadian quickly slammed the door shut.
Matthew opened the door briefly again, “-I’m not America! I’m Canada!” before slamming it shut one more time.
Honda was left to wonder outside.
--
“Maria, I can’t find my clothes!” he groaned, searching the room with his things scattered on the floor. “I think my foot is much better now, but I can’t find my other shoe either! Look, I need to go back to my room and--”
“’Sus, they are not dry yet!” she called out. “Look, Kuya, you can take a bath and get dressed here. I have some clothes that you can use. Just have something to eat muna!”
“You are really insistent, aren’t you?” he sighed, and saw her peeking out of the kitchen while holding a spatula, a warm smile on her face. He couldn’t get frustrated and annoyed by that sweet endearing expression. Any form of worry was dispelled quickly.
“Just some of my world-renowned hospitality,” she winked. “You know, Kuya Alfred likes everything fried. He can’t believe I thought of this! He wished he came up with the same idea with mash potatoes!”
“What is it?” he sniffed curiously, going inside the kitchen. “Smells like fried garlic.”
“FRIED RICE!”
“Fried-rice.” Matthew repeated, thinking of all the cholesterol that would clog his arteries. Yes, Alfred liked everything fried-this was the guy who thought up “bacon explosion” and “fried milk”. He cringed at the thought of fried rice. Maria set a plate of slightly oiled white rice on the table, alongside a bottle of orange juice and a plateful of cheese omelettes and slices of canned luncheon meat. He noticed something on the counter, a pancake shaped yellow-brown dough with egg slices and white cheese emitting a slightly burnt smell, wrapped lightly in a banana leaf.
“Kuya, don’t be afraid to try out the fried rice,” she said as if reading his worried expression, while pointing at the empty darkened pan at the same time. “I cooked it after the omelettes and the luncheon meat. It’s really tasty, and it won’t be complete without a few cloves of garlic! It smells good, doesn’t it?”
He could hear his stomach grumble, “Yes, it does-“ his gaze still affixed to the slightly burnt, pancake-like pastry. “Maria, what’s that-? It looks like a pancake.”
“Wah, I forgot to cook one for you---!”
“No, it’s okay, what is it?”
“It’s a rice cheesecake called bibingka,” she replied. “Your dad calls it Filipino pancakes. Technically that’s what they are, except we put a lot more ingredients and glaze them with coconut strips and not syrup.” She let out a small sigh- she was supposed to set them aside for Alfred, but obviously the American ate Arthur’s share. She hadn’t forgotten what the two did to her yesterday.
Matthew was about to sit down when Maria pulled him lightly by the arm. “Ah, Kuya, I almost forgot! Before you eat, let me see if the clothes here will fit you!”
“It will be awkward if I wear your clothes, Maria---“
“Who said anything about my clothes, loko ka!” she chuckled softly, pushing him towards one of her bags. Digging to the bottom, she threw him a pair of tan colored slacks, black loafers, a long-sleeved white polo shirt and a coffee-brown blazer.
Matthew tried on the pants and the polo shirt. It was a snug fit.
“Just as I thought,” she said, sounding very pleased as she looked at him from top to bottom. “His clothes fit you perfectly! I think he wouldn’t even recognize them today- those have been around since 1991!”
“He-?” Matthew looked up as he tried on the brown hooded jacket.
“Oh, you know, your idiot brother-Kuya Alfred…” Maria’s words rolled out as she looked at him longingly. With Alfred’s clothes on, Matthew was the spitting image of his brother from head to toe, but she could tell the difference in their personalities by the look of their eyes. Alfred was always cocky, overly confident. Matthew was warm, polite and friendly, and did not share the boisterous and arrogant display of behavior that his brother had. Well, probably only when he played hockey. She couldn’t forget that picture in his room.
Matthew gave her a confused expression.
She remembered how she had seen such a familiar expression from Alfred before,
“Sally, you know I have no choice!” he called out, their voices drowned out by the loud whirring sounds of the helicopter behind them. “It’s no longer safe here-I have to pull out!”
“Kuya!” she shouted, looking worriedly at the sky. It was barely 10 in the morning, yet dark clouds hung heavily and gray ash started to fall onto the ground like light snow. It had begun. “You helped me prepare for this, that’s all that matters! Now, go!”
“-Are you going to be alright?”
“I can manage, Kuya! I’m going to be fine!”
“Last time you said that, you looked close to dying!”
“Maria?” Matthew said once again. “Maria, are you alright?”
“Huh?” she blinked back her reverie and shook her head, blushing a little. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just I remembered Kuya Alfred when you wore them!”
“If it’s a bad thing, I can always get-“
“No, no! It’s okay! Really!” she gestured with both hands in the air. “I’m sorry, I know how tired you are of always being mistaken for him!”
“No, you didn’t,” he smiled sadly. Maria probably didn’t realize it but Matthew noticed the pained expression on her face when he wore Alfred’s clothing. There were times when she would sparkle at the mere mention of his name, and then she would suddenly be quiet and withdrawn when she saw something that reminded her of him. He wondered just how complex her relationship was with his brother.
“You said you just remembered-I can’t fault you with that,” he continued, then asked curiously, “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up having a complete set of clothes from Alfred?”
It was then that Maria blushed deeply and bowed her head, wishing she could hide under the mounds of clothing she had taken out. Matthew quickly realized what the awkward silence meant.
“Oh---OH! I shouldn’t have asked!” he apologized. “I’m sorry!”
“Kuya Matthew, I hope you are not thinking what the other nations think of me,” she said in a deep and serious tone. “I heard the whole conversation when you and Kuya Alfred fought yesterday. It’s unnecessary to brag such conquests to other nations-it just proves what everyone is saying behind my back-and because he IS America, he makes it sound like I’m a-“ her voice trembled, “I’m a wh-“
“No!” Matthew interrupted.
“Kuya Matthew-“
“No, Maria! Don’t say it! You are not like that, okay?” he knelt down in front of her, and Maria could see the intensity in his bright blue gaze. “Whatever special relations you have with my brother is no one else’s business if it does not involve world affairs. It’s also none of my business. If you didn’t do anything wrong, there is nothing to be ashamed of! What do they know, anyway? You are sweet, accommodating, you are-”
“You don’t know my history, Kuya.” She replied, bowing her head and wiping her tears as she sniffed. “It’s complicated. I will have to tell you some other time.”
“I see.”
For a moment, Matthew didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell Maria to drop the formalities and call him only by his name-she was being way too polite. He assumed this was probably caused by the years of servitude in the houses of several nations.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head again and turned to the open luggage.
“And speaking of his clothes, Kuya, you have to take a bath first before wearing everything! Take that off, I happen to have one of his more casual shirts here. You can wear that with your…err…boxers!”
And just like that, Maria reverted to her old self: selfless, worrying about the task at hand and reigning in any problems she was dealing with for the time being.
There was a lot about her he needed to know.
Distracted, Matthew didn’t notice that Maria had finished talking until he was greeted by a white shirt thrown straight at his face. He opened it, and nearly grimaced to see the image of a man holding out a big American flag emblazoned on the middle, with a line of text below it saying: “America is awesome, man.”
She laughed lightly, “I know! It’s not exactly what you want to wear! But I think it’s comfortable!” She could see the reluctant look on Matthew’s face as he held the shirt. “Don’t be shy, Kuya. It’s not like I will see anything I haven’t seen before! Change your clothes so you can eat na! I will re-heat the bibingka for you if you want!”
“Um, sure, thanks.” He reluctantly took off the pants and the polo shirt, putting the other shirt on. He wanted to elevate Maria’s mood after all that she had done for him since yesterday.
“So, Maria!” he said cheerfully, adjusting the frame of his glasses as he headed to the small dining table. “Can you tell me how I ended up throwing up near the fountains at the town’s square? I really can’t remember anything after my sixth bottle of beer!”
---
Back to Francis’s room
“You bloody bastards! That will teach you both who you are dealing with-and I STILL FUCKING HAD IT!” Arthur growled before uttering a dozen more curses as he scrambled clumsily for his clothes, fumbling with his sweater vest and blazer before stumbling into his pants. His face glowed a bright red while his eyes were still blood shot from last night. His face was also unshaven and a part of his left eyebrow was pulled off at the side. Arthur was still wearing the ridiculous Wonder Woman costume, but the Englishman did not care-he would be late for the meeting and there was paperwork needed to be prepared.
“I wouldn’t mind being beaten up by Wonder Woman~”
“FUCK YOU, FRANCIS!” he cursed, kicking Francis repeatedly as he lay on the floor, beaten up but still laughing like a sick fool. Arthur wanted to kick him some more if only he weren’t in a hurry. Antonio was beside him, still groggy after getting bashed by an empty wine bottle on his head. There were still some glass shards in his hair and probably some scratches inflicted on his face, but along with the Frenchman, he was laughing like a nutcase.
“¡El pirata del asno ha sido asno violado!” He leered, sitting up and brushing off the shards of glass from his hair.
“Mon dieu, an ass pirate! That ez a good one, L’Espagne!”
Arthur shot them both a long hard glare before stomping out of the room in full fury. No sooner than he had slammed the door hard behind him, the two of them sat up and leaned against the wall, laughing very hard.
“That viejo hombre still got it in him, eh?” Antonio rubbed the back of his head and pulled out a shard. He would need to put gauze on it later. “Admit it Francia, even if he still got us again, getting a chance to beat him for no particular reason never felt so good!”
“Oui! I agree. We can even make it an annual celebration!”
The Spaniard chuckled, grabbing one of the bottles that Arthur used to hit him with. “You know all that silly talk of yours with Inglaterra about stimulating the senses? Why didn’t you just tell him you were serving Veneziano’s rare wines?”
“Hm, where ez the fun in that?” Francis replied, holding out what looked like a black thong-the victorious prize he ‘pulled out’ from Arthur a while ago. “When he saw Ivan tipsy and giddy at the last G8’s meeting at Veneziano’s, he was panicking like hell and avoided drinking it at all cost!”
He poked a digit against Antonio’s cheek. “You, on the other hand, mon ami, I warned you not to drink too much! You owe me one for the damages!”
“Alright, alright!” Antonio reacted defensively, pushing himself off the wall. “By the way, now that my head is all cleared up-I want to ask, did someone really, you know, get him from behind?”
“The truth? Well, I did get him once after accidentally getting drunk and moping ab-“
“NO! I mean last night!”
“Oh that, it was nothing L’Espagne~! When we were trying to pin you down on the ground, he slipped and fell on the missing plate of escargot!”
“So nothing really happened.”
“Non! Not at all!” Francis stated proudly, “But seeing Angleterre react like that was utterly inestimable! I want to see how far he is going to assume someone rode him~”
“You are one sick bastard!”
“Yes, a bastard avec la classe!” he blew a kiss, and Antonio merely shrugged, his thoughts starting to drift somewhere else. Francis continued.
“And since you said your head is all cleared up, what will you do now with Amerique?”
A short tension hung in the air before Antonio replied grimly, his green eyes dim. “I need to have a serious talk with him. I really need to know how it happened. I taught my hija better than to give it up like that to that idiot.”
“You raised her much too conservatively, L’Espagne.”
“I did it for her own good!”
“Hm, whatever you say, my friend!” Francis answered, stretching and slowly standing up, shaking out his limbs as he did. “Speaking of which, did anyone see Amerique?”
“BLAWHHHAACCCKKKK! OH FUC----BLWACHH”
“I think he is in the guest’s bathroom,” Antonio said flatly, pointing at the door. Francis leapt out quickly in no time.
“AMERIQUE! DO NOT THROW UP ON THE EXPENSIVE CARPET!”
--
It took about one hour of Alfred throwing up all over the bathroom and Francis crying about room renovations that Antonio took the time to clean himself up. It was a good thing he had a habit of bringing some spare clothes with him every time he was invited by the amorous Frenchman-it would be an embarrassment to end up wearing Francis’s brightly mismatched and sometimes “revealing” outfits.
After taking a bath and changing into clean clothes, he wondered if he could hide the 1-inch bleeding gash on his scalp. It was a little too hard to ignore someone walking around with a 2-inch gauze pad patched at the back of his head. Ah, well, maybe they wouldn’t mind.
He was also starting to feel the beating he endured last night, his jaw still raw and throbbing. Antonio walked quietly barefooted across the living room, down to the dining area, and towards Francis’s fridge. His green eyes searched the frozen meat section, and with a sigh of relief, thanked the saints in heaven upon seeing that it was well-stocked with frozen meat and wursts. Grabbing the biggest frozen steak, he wrapped it with a thick table napkin and placed it gently on his cheek.
“¡Ah, dios mio! That really hurts-“
He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he saw Alfred Jones standing a few feet away from him. He looked like a total mess: there was a crack on his glasses and his dirty blonde hair had a large, strange cowlick sticking up in a peculiar direction. Bits of his vomit were still on his crinkled shirt and he had a big scratch on his right upper cheek.
“Hmph, somebody came around.” Antonio frowned, muttering a curse under his breath.
"I know what's going through your mind right now," Alfred spoke, as if to answer the bitter expression written on the Spaniard’s face. "What I said last night was not like what you think it is. Just hear me out."
"Are you still drunk?" he replied sarcastically, holding the slab of frozen steak to his cheek. His gaze wandered to the bottle that Alfred was holding.
"Oh, this is flavored water. You know, to wash the bile-"
"...Right."
Alfred motioned with one hand. "Can I have a-"
Without saying a word, Antonio tossed a pack of frozen wursts to the American. In no time, Alfred placed it between his legs, his mouth forming a soundless "Oh, yeah," as the cold, hard wursts pressed against his sore crotch.
"Too bad I missed," Antonio mumbled as he walked past him. Alfred jumped back a little upon hearing the words.
"Y-You’re not going to attack me with that steak, are you?" he asked meekly. The Spaniard looked over his shoulder and was greeted by the sight of Alfred's terrified big blues staring back at him while holding a pack of wursts protectively over his crotch. If the situation did not call for it, then he would have laughed.
"No, I'm not. Well-at least not today," he stated calmly, trying to inject some dry humor into the situation with his words. His green gaze flickered directly towards Alfred before sitting down on a long sofa behind him. "You said you could explain what you said last night about my hija."
"Yeah."
"Well? Come and sit over here."
"...No, thanks, I will sit over here," Alfred said defensively, trying to sit down slowly on the cold marble floor. But as soon as his behind touched the hard marble, a sharp jabbing pain shot up his spine, and he bolted up with a whimper.
"I kicked you before I-"
"I know, I KNOW!" he grumbled, reluctantly stomping towards Antonio's direction. Alfred sat on the farthest edge of the sofa, letting out a small sigh of relief as he sank down upon its cushioned softness.
"I think it explains everything," Antonio finally spoke, staring at the cold, sweating steak in his hands. "I really can't bring myself to ask her if the rumors are true. After the war, her trust in me died. It’s not like I really had a choice, but I can see that bitterness every time she sees me."
"A war can change anyone, Antonio." Alfred then paused, "What do you mean rumors?"
As usual, you have no idea.
“Honestly? It’s really a very straightforward one.”
“Heh. I’m pretty straightforward with anything!” Alfred managed a small grin, “So tell me, what rumors?”
Antonio rubbed his jaw, “Your diplomatic ties with my hija-everybody is saying that you screwed her so hard and so many times that it damaged her way of thinking, to the point that it has become totally irreversible.”
Alfred’s jaw dropped. “I had no idea! I know some of her Asian siblings do not like how I’m associated with her. But that’s just about it!”
“Well, that’s what they say about her sometimes. I call it colonial mentality,” Antonio continued, his tone serious and bitter. “And for someone who likes to meddle with other nations’ affairs all the time, you barely know what goes around them. Sometimes I wonder if Inglaterra dropped you on your head when you were younger!”
He could tell that Alfred was getting embarrassed and had remained strangely quiet throughout his lecturing, fiddling with the pack of wursts with great interest as if he were studying the world map.
“Do you know that even right now I still want to hit you-“ he gritted his teeth, clutching the meat tighter with his fingers; Alfred glanced at them with silently growing terror, “-really hit you when you said those words about my hija? I know this is what you call conservative garbage, but you have everything to gain in what she is to lose.”
//--//
It was an arduous task raising the young Filipinas after learning that he was, in fact, a girl. Antonio had never raised a young female, which nearly gave him a nervous breakdown in trying to work out how to deal with it. He knew he had to eventually encounter the following: self-esteem issues, erratic mood swings and unstable hormones. Later on the 1700’s all of these are starting to show, and he will console himself by talking to Francis, who is starting to raise a female colony of his own. It’s quite unimaginable for the Frenchman to have a soft side and raising a daughter, as he was known to flirt constantly with anyone regardless of gender. Sometimes Antonio felt he was hitting on him and he did not even know it. He never brought up the topic, since most likely Francis will point out his unusual fondness towards his young male colonies and mock him as a pédophile tomate-affectueux
But can he help it? They are all cute!
“You named her after your King? She ez going to curse you for giving her such a long name, L’Espagne!”
“Look, Francia, like I said, I thought she was a boy! If I only knew, I would have named her after my Queen!” he reacted embarrassedly, and pointed out, “But didn’t you name yours after your King’s Minister of Finance? What about that?”
“I named her after his last name. It’s rather short and unique sounding,” he replied smugly. “Filipinas-on the other hand, ez such a manly name for a female~”
“I compensated it by converting and giving her an appropriate Catholic name. You know, the other name.”
“Well, tell me!”
“Maria Salome Consolacion delos Santos y Carriedo!”
“…No wonder why she is really starting to hate you, L’Espagne.”
He was a busy man, exploring uncharted regions and discovering territories and not knowing how to raise a young girl, so he temporarily left her in the care of her older brother Alfonso, thinking it would be nice for them to get to know each other. But when the Mexican started to teach her how to hold firearms and drink liquor-with her running naked on the beach for a visiting Francis to see being the last straw-he quickly regretted the idea. The look on Francis’s face strengthened his resolve: a young, trusting little girl like her would be taken advantage of by other nations without his guidance. He would have the control of raising her solely from now on.
By this time, Salome had started to blossom and develop into a beautiful and tenacious young woman, and so grew the interests of the other nations to participate in foreign trading with her. Most of them were male nations and he never liked the idea of her relating with them for fear that “they would seize her vital regions”. He wouldn’t mind the longtime traders who had been doing business with her before him, such as Wang Yao. But it was the age of discovery, and everyone was trying to prove their worth by conquest. With his vast colonies and growing number of ‘children’ and fear that she would fall to a rival’s hands, he implemented the Spanish monopoly. To reign in her free-spirited nature, he raised her to fear religion and instilled strong religious morals in her. Her purity, her chastity as a woman was something she could only truly give when she married in a Catholic church with his blessing.
“Someday, I will get married, Papa,” she once said dreamily, gazing out of the windows at the dark, starry sky. “He will be a strong man, probably someone larger than life-someone who can show me the world!”
“No, you won’t get married,” he remarked curtly, pulling the drapes over the windows. “You know what will happen, right? You are a female: he will take over your regions, instill his beliefs and claim you as his conquest. There is nothing beautiful about that.”
She pouted, pushing the drapes away furiously. “That’s not all true! You know I can’t stay and live with you forever!”
“Hija-“
Salome would usually continue arguing but she remained quiet for a few minutes. In fact, she started to look embarrassed “Papa-?“
“Hmm?”
“I can tell you anything, right? Absolutely anything?”
“If it’s not about that marriage topic again, then yes.”
“I-I stained my garments today-and it’s not because I sat on your tomatoes again.”
It took a few minutes before what the words meant finally sunk in. When it did, he nearly fainted.
“Papa, Papa! Why is your nose bleeding?!”
//--//
Alfred knew he couldn’t keep his silence forever and watched as Antonio’s grip on the meat slowly relaxed. Even if he was just a foot away, he still couldn’t forget what happened last night. Maybe what he had seen was just a mere fraction of the Spaniard’s repressed fury, as Arthur used to regale him with tales about his battles as the English Pirate who fought the Spanish Conquistador when he was younger. He started to mellow and was already worn and tired by the time of his defeat in the Spanish-American war. It was the end of his era.
He took a deep breath, letting out one long sigh. “What has already happened cannot be undone, Antonio. But if there is anything I can say right now to make it better, I will say that you raised her well. You know she hasn’t completely forgotten.”
He remembered seeing Salome barging in wearing her terno, “Yes, I can see my influence during conference meetings. The way she wears her national-“
“No, not that. Her strong moral values! Do you know how stubborn she was that she turned down my offers of marriage several times?! Any former colony would have leapt at the chance! It was the World War and I knew it was the only way to protect her. She wasn’t even ready to be on her own, nor did she have any form of government-but she insisted that all she wanted was her independence!”
Antonio turned towards Alfred with a baffled expression written all over his face. He could not believe a single word that he was confessing. But the American was serious, and placed the pack of wursts down onto the floor, looking at him straight in the eye.
“She knew that she would make mistakes, but she told me that it was the only way she would learn. I told her that the transition wouldn’t be easy,” he continued, “But she told me that it was better to bear with the difficulty than having to live in fear under the control of someone else.”
“That was my fault,” Antonio sighed heavily, his tone filled with deep regret. “I held her back for 333 years. It was very different with her South American brothers, and you have no idea what it was like, having to lose them all almost at the same time. But what I don’t understand is why she refused your offer of marriage. It’s what she always wanted.”
Alfred lifted an eyebrow, “Really?!”
“Yes, she saw it as the only way for her to be free. When you presented yourself as the hero who would do just that, she pretty much fell in love with you!”
“Am-Am I her FIRST love?”
“Damn right, you are. And she really isn’t ready to be on her own. Sometimes I wish you really did marry her. At least I could accept what happened.”
Ignoring Antonio’s last words, Alfred continued. “Believe me, I really tried until 1942 when I was forced to leave her. But we end up having a mutual agreement, Sally and I. I would teach her everything I know about democracy so she could learn to rule on her own, and in return, I would always be welcome to set up camp and help her if the need arises. I told her once the war is over and she is ready, I would grant her independence.”
“1946-“
“Yes, and on my birthday too! July 4, 1946. But she never kept that date on her calendar.”
“You are a bad liar, Jones. You never completely left her until 1991, and you used her place as the backbone of logistic support during the Vietnam War.”
It was with that statement that Antonio elicited a nervous laugh from Alfred, and the blonde started to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, yeah-“
But then Antonio’s expression slowly changed, and his eyes focused on Alfred. “But if what you said is true, that she rejected your proposals all this time-explain to me what the hell you DID in February 1945.”
Alfred looked at him wryly: now, he gets it. “This is the sex before marriage issue isn’t it?”
“BUT you didn’t marry her! You just HAD sex with her!”
“Like I told you before, Antonio, it was in the heat of the moment! We didn’t see it coming either! Do you really need to know the specific details?!”
“YOU MADE HER CRY OUT PHRASES IN LATIN!”
“Look! After we did it, it was all awkward, okay? She wouldn’t talk to me about the incident after a month! When she came around to-well, that’s when she started getting clingy for years to come.”
“Did you ever wonder why?! You are her first love, her first kiss, her first-! You will have to accept it!”
You just didn’t do it to her once, or else there would be no crazy rumors going around about her.
“D-Does that mean you are giving me your blessing?”
Antonio gave Alfred a hard glare and was about to say his rebuttal when Francis barged into the living room.
“Mon Dieu! Are you two still going to continue your bickering for another hour? The meeting will start in an hour and no one in this room ez prepared!” he complained, and then stared at the pieces of packed meat at the floor. “And don’t waste my good food, L’Espagne! You have destroyed most of my furniture already!”
Alfred felt relieved that Francis had arrived just in time to save him from getting grilled, and quickly jumped to his feet, “I look like shit! I’ll take a bath now!”
“Indeed, Amerique, you smell like shite. Just like my bathroom’s upholstery,” Francis frowned, throwing some clean clothes he was carrying towards Alfred. “’ere, try wearing some of your brother’s old clothes. They seem to be the only ones you can fit in.”
“Oh man, I look friggin’ Amish with this shit!”
“Just shut up and hurry!”
When the American was out of earshot, Francis turned towards the Antonio, who looked worn out and stressed, clasping both hands together as he stared at the carpeted floor.
“So, Mon Ami, did you and Amerique have a serious conversation d'homme à homme? Learned anything useful?”
He looked up, his eyes quietly smiling as he turned towards him. “I raised her well, Francia. I raised her well.”
----
To be continued! Oh joy, two weeks of absence due to IRL stress and this is the best I can come up with ||OTL Reviews and esteem-boosting comments are so needed, like you guys have no idea orz.
Doing Papa Spain / Salome inserts are so much fun (than I originally intended to) that I keep wasting my plotbunnies on them. Brother Mexico might make more appearances and probably Veneziano with palabok fiesta. And Puerto Rico...no, nah >_>
Also, I have a massive LSS on Journey and Taylor Swift songs when I did this.
And to those who made fanarts based on this fanfic, thank you soo much! I don’t know my work can inspire my readers (most of the chapters are by product of sleep depravity lol) to actually do fanart, I will be archiving them in my site soon!
Thanks to seikochan for doing the beta. I almost screwed up the 'raising their daughters' subplot @_@
Looking at my other chapters, I realized I really need beta haha...orz
----
Fun Facts: Ivan getting drunk with wine is inspired by a real incident last July when Russia’s president Dimtry Medvdev got tipsy with the fine wines (that I mentioned) served during this year’s G8 summit where Italy is the host country. The Italian prime minister has to assist him and that’s Francis’s boss on the left, who also have his embarrassing drunken experience in a previous G8 conference. It’s too good to pass up.
This screams for fan art XD
Also, references are made about the impending Mt.Pinatubo catastrophe, San Miguel Beer and Clark Airbase.
Finished Chapters (this is cleaner):
1 | 2 | 3 | Antonio's Special Interlude - Mi Hija Las Islas Filipinas | Alfred's Special Interlude - A Hero's Conflict | 4 | 5.01 - 5.02
Title: Longest Holiday (6/???)
Author: silentside
Beta: seikochan
Characters: OC!Female PH-tan (Ma.Salome), Lucky!Canada, OhPoor!America, ReallyEmbarrassed!England, Francebeing!France, ReallySeriousFatherly!Spain. Traumatized!China and Perplexed!Japan making brief cameos.
Genre: Light Romance / Drama / Comedy
Rating: T/slightly R-ish
Warning: Drunken Nations having major hangovers and getting caught in awkward situations = F U N ! Who needs a bloody warning for this?
Chapter Summary: "Women are like teabags, Arthur," Alfred pointed out, "--You never know how strong they are until they're placed in hot water."
Arthur lifted his brows, looking up from the tea he was drinking; it was certainly quite a remarkable quote coming from him.
"You didn't think of that, did you?"
"Yeah, it's from my boss Franklin's wife, Eleanor."
(P.S. Chapter summary has little to do with the story, srsly.)
----
Author’s note: I didn’t update last week because I have to get out the stress from the AOF hetalia cosplay out of my system to be replaced with work stress this week. GAH.
Pt.06 - Truth in whine
Francis's Room
¡Ah, Mierda!
Antonio silently cursed as he opened his eyes, only for them to be stung by the prisms of strong sunlight drifting into the room. What time is it? It's probably almost noon!
He tried covering his eyes to shield them from the sun's intrusive rays, only to find he couldn’t move them. Then, reality slowly started to sink in: he was lying on Francis's bed. Both of his fists and ankles were tied to the bedposts, and he found himself gagged by the Frenchman’s pink floral-print kerchief. Frantically he struggled, trying to let out a muffled scream, only to feel a heavy crushing pain in his lower left jaw.
Then, the memories of last night’s ‘get together’ came flooding back to him: he remembered drinking too much wine because he could never have his fill with Francis’s food, and then the very loud and drunk Alfred accidentally slipped out how he ‘liberated Sally’s vital regions’ in 1945. And from there on, everything he saw became red.
That hijo de puta! He silently raged, clenching his fists tightly. This explained why his Salome had her strange clingy moments with the American. Now if he could just get out of his awkward predicament-
Antonio felt something move against him, making him realize that he was not the only one in the bed. Feeling the damp gushing of air on his naked torso, he dreadfully looked down to see a very unconscious Francis lying face down and salivating near his crotch.
“!!!”
--
Wang Yao was about to leave his room for the early afternoon briefing when his phone rang. The line bleeping seemed to come from Francis’s place. He did not get much rest the previous night since he had spent the entire evening looking for Salome, and he was certainly not in a genial mood right now.
“Francis, what is it this time, aru?” he answered irritatedly, “I’m not going to supply you with THAT if that’s what you called for, aru!”
“¡Yao, viene aquí y me ayuda!” came a muffled desperate cry on the other line. “-
Mierda, I mean, come here, help me! Yao!”
Stunned, it took Yao a minute to recognize the language. “Antonio, aru? What’s going on? What happened to Francis, aru?”
“JUST COME AND HELP ME OUT OF HERE!”
--
“Oh Pi---w-what the hell HAPPENED here, aru?!?”
Yao wished he would never have to enter Francis’s room, but Antonio’s desperate call for help made him think it was a matter of life and death-he had broken the door with a rifle on hand.
Now he couldn’t unsee what was in front of him. The Spaniard was bound to Francis’s bed with only his gag loosened from his mouth, and the way Yao saw it, it seemed as if he just banged his head to hit whatever number he could on Francis’s speed dial. On the other hand, the amorous Frenchman was lying down passed out on Antonio’s exposed torso, his face looking quite snug on his crotch. He also saw Alfred F. Jones looking strangely comfortable dozing off when he, in fact, had gone through a chair.
And was that Arthur lying down on the floor in a skimpy Wonder Woman costume?
He. Could. Not. Unsee. That. EVER.
“Yao!” Antonio gasped, “-untie me, please!”
“You owe me for this one, aru!” he grumbled as he angrily started to untie Antonio’s fists from the bedposts. “You Europeans! Do you always like giving me culture shock, aru?”
“I’m sorry, Yao.” Antonio apologized, sitting up and rubbing his swollen wrists. “I swear this is not what you think it is. We just had a little too much to drink.”
“I can see that, aru.” He nodded grimly in Francis’s direction. Antonio tried shoving him off, but the half-conscious Frenchman ended up clinging to his waist.
“F-Francia! Let me go, stop---stop touching me!”
“Oh Mon Ami, but I ‘ave always been touching you---!” he blurted out, and then slipped back to unconsciousness. “-geographically.”
“---de puta ma---Let go of me!”
“Noooon, vous avez fermé vers le haut, vous pédophile tomate-affectueux~”
“Pedophile!?”
Yao sighed and went inside the bathroom. He returned with a small bucket of water and threw the contents on the Frenchman. In no time, Francis shrieked, jumped up and started shaking the water out of his hair like an angry soaked feline.
“Merde! What was that for?”
“You tied me up! ¡Pervertido!” Antonio snapped back, his face a bit red.
“---and you won’t let go of his crotch, aru.”
“I’m lying on your crotch?” Francis asked, and then turned towards Yao for a second, “Wait-how the hell did you get in here?- wait, I was lying on your crotch?”
“Do I have to repeat myself twice? YES!”
It was at that moment that Francis’ face blanched, and he started uttering something in French before cringing at nearest bedpost. Antonio had been in Francis’ company for such a long time that he could understand at least a few words, and he managed to make out something about “dream”, “snuggling” and “juicy tomatoes.”
He certainly did not want to know.
“Just what the hell happened last night here, aru?” Yao could help but question, even though his inner voice told him he was better off not knowing.
“It’s kind of complicated.” Antonio muttered, rubbing his sore jaw. “I got into a little fight with Alfred-it’s a long story.”
“Little fight, Antonio?” Francis twitched, referring to the Spaniard with his actual name, which he only ever did when he started to get angry. He turned around with an expression of someone who was either about to laugh or strangle a human being, “A little fight?! You went all fucking bloody conquistador! YOU NEARLY DESTROYED THE ENTIRE ROOM! MY BEAUTIFUL AND MAGNIFICENT ROOM! IT TOOK ALL THREE OF US TO JUST TIE YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU STOP, AHHHHHHHRRRGGHHH!”
“Pucha, look who started serving wine and got us all drunk!” Antonio retorted, giving Francis a hard glare before kicking him off the bed.
The Frenchman clambered back, “IT WASN’T PART OF THE PLANNN! You know the plan - you wouldn’t get drunk, Amerique would! He would get so piss drunk that we could make him talk!”
“Oh, he talked, alright, and I would do what I did EVEN if I wasn’t drunk just hearing what he said about my hija!”
“Well, in that, you nearly succeeded, mon ami. Maybe you can try being diplomatic now?” he pointed towards Alfred’s direction. One of Francis’s chairs was stuck around the American, who was, in fact, looking like he was enjoying his sleep.
“Just be glad I have a hangover!...ow…my jaw!”
Yao made a mental note when he entered Francis’s room that it looked like it was hit by a hurricane. Although he had known Antonio since his golden age of colonial rule, he had never seen the man’s wrath: there was an unspoken leniency between them for as far as the time he monopolized Salome’s trading relations.
“What’s with Salome, aru?” he asked, “Did anything happen to her, aru?”
“No, mon ami, it’s---“
“I haven’t seen since her yesterday in her room, aru,” Yao added, his voice sounding worried. “She was supposed to meet me yesterday afternoon for tea and I tried looking for her outside last night, but I couldn’t find her anywhere, aru.”
The two paused in their arguing and turned to Yao.
“S-she went missing?!?” Antonio reacted, forgetting his sore jaw. His face became alit with concern. “That hijo de puta! It’s his fault!”
“N-not entirely like that, Aru!” Yao waved his hands frantically as he saw the man’s expression slowly darken, “I went back to her room after the search, aru. I saw Yong Soo passed out from drinking too many beers - it looks like they spent a karaoke session in her room, aru.”
“Ah! See, there is nothing to worry about!” Francis exclaimed, giving Antonio a light slap on the shoulder. “The mademoiselle just had a karaoke night----”
“What kind of cervesa?”
Wang Yao gave him a perplexed look.
“What kind of beer?” Antonio asked again.
“Budweiser, aru,” Yao replied. No sooner than he finished his words did Antonio attempt to leap out of the bed, only to fall face down flat---his right foot was still bound. He cursed loudly and tried getting Francis to untie the knot.
“W-what does this have to do with the beer, aru?”
“If my hija keeps beer, it will only be San Miguel!” he panicked, pulling his loose drawstring pants to his waist as he tried to stand up. “Certainly someone else aside from Yong Soo is with her! She wouldn’t just leave somebody lying wasted in her room! She goes ballistic!”
“---You don’t have to worry about that, aru!” Yao said, trying to placate the Spaniard. “I will get somebody to check on her, aru. Most likely Yong Soo is already sober and awake at this time of the day, aru.”
“What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost 2 pm, aru.”
“IT’S ALMOST 2 PM!?!” came a sudden shout from behind Francis and Antonio. The voice was followed by a strained grumbling sound. “Oh, bloody hangover, I will kill that bastard.”
Arthur was standing up with his left hand clutching his forehead and was also temporarily unaware that he was still wearing the skimpy Wonder Woman outfit. The sight of his hairy legs and something else sent Yao beyond his tolerance limit and in no time, he was screaming and rushing out of the door.
“Did I just hear someone screaming curses in Chinese?” he wondered out loud, still oblivious of what he is wearing while rubbing his sinus and laying his other hand on his sore behind. Arthur felt a deep crease in the clothing and probed deeper to feel a sticky substance between his fingers. His green eyes slowly narrowed in realization as the events of last night started to come back to him.
“Yes, Yao…dropped by.”
“Well, and good afternoon to you too, beautiful~”
“Francia…!”
--
If holding off a drunken conquistador Antonio was like trying to control a person possessed by a thousand demons, a thoroughly embarrassed and enraged Arthur practically brought back the swashbuckling pirate days. With the two having not so fond memories of him during the colonial era, placating Pirate Mode!Arthur took them a mere thirty minutes. After wiping his sweaty brow, Antonio exclaimed that he had never felt so exhausted, yet at the same time felt so damn good as he held Arthur in a tight head grip, and Francis grinned that it was a good thing that Gilbert’s costume worked towards Arthur’s disadvantage: the defeated blonde was caught in an embarrassing and painful contorted wedgie.
In a few minutes, Alfred woke up, stumbled recklessly with the furniture around him and started screaming about wanting to scratch his eyes out. But the two barely noticed the American, as they were all too busy tackling and humiliating Arthur down on the floor for a few minutes more.
“¡De Puttaaa Madreeee! Who conquers you now?!”
“-Look, L’Espagne, I think I grabbed some tomatoes!”
“You let go of my-mfff! You bloody wank-,mmfff!”
“I wish La Prusse was awake with ze camera! Look, who ze ass-ass-in!”
Desperately, Arthur’s eyes darted wildly across the floor in a search for anything he could bash Antonio’s head with before he was thoroughly molested by Francis from behind. A couple of the wine bottles rolled in his direction and he got a glimpse of the labels.
Ferrari Perle Nerò, Grappa Solero
That wasn’t even French! It was Italian!
Then he remembered an embarrassing scenario from this year’s G8 conference of which Veneziano was the current host nation: Ivan Braginsky had gotten so drunk from drinking too much wine that the small Italian reluctantly had to support the wobbling, snickering Russian all the way to his vehicle when they were all done for the day. It astounded everybody who had never thought such fine wine from Italy would be his weakness. Ferrari Perle Nerò and Grappa Solero were a few of the wines that were served.
Grabbing one of the bottles, Arthur swung it with all his might towards Antonio’s head.
---
Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlights people, living just to find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night.
Matthew woke up from what he thought was the music playing in the background of his strange yet beautiful dream. It just happened to be the radio alarm. Darn.
Although slightly tipsy from drinking too much beer, he remembered hanging out with Maria all night and singing karaoke until Yong Soo passed out on the floor. Taking her outside, he shared his local delicacies and showed her the wonderful Christmas display that they would put up this year. He remembered her sweet sampaguita scent when he held her close as she broke down and cried as he finally admitted that he knew of her traumatic plight during the Typhoon Ketsana. He offered his savings that he had kept safe in an empty maple syrup bottle all this time. At that point, everything ceased to be real.
It was a strange yet beautiful dream-
She wiped her tears away, and like an excited child, tugged him by his sleeve, held his hand and lead him out of the maze of corridors that never seemed to end before bursting outside into the open field. It got him a little dizzy and he tripped; she caught him and they both fell down, rolling on the small grassy knoll towards the hotel entrance. They were laughing like crazy, and she pulled his glasses off as they lay down side-by-side. Everything in his vision started to turn into a colorful kaleidoscope of blurry lights.
Maria---my glasses! Maria…!
Kuya, if you are not entirely blind, that’s okay naman ! You won’t get mistaken as Kuya Alfred this time!
Where are you taking me, Maria?
It’s a surprise too!
It was all a haze----some scenes would slow down, and then suddenly there would be flashes of bright lights and everything would surge forward. He remembered Maria taking him to a festive place where people had all born warm smiles as they drank San Miguel beer merrily (which she thought was one of the good things her Papa had reluctantly consented to). They drank-they ran and tumbled towards gazebos and dance merrily on the fountains while trying to duck from the water shooting out several feet into the air.
Gazebos, large fountains, fiesta---
Where had Maria taken him anyway?
Grumbling, Matthew lazily stretched out his arm and tried slamming the radio alarm shut. He couldn’t reach it-his vision was blurry and he gave the table a long stare so that he could at least aim for it.
Then he realized it wasn’t his table.
Behind the radio alarm was a small statuette of the Virgin Mother Mary and Her Child. His gaze wandered farther behind it and saw a small pair of foil star lanterns attached to the cream colored walls. His eyes widened and he turned around, quickly bolting up from the bed.
----Maria’s room!
Matthew felt his neck hair stand up as a wave of cold air-conditioned wind touched his skin. He looked down in horror to realize that, except for a pair of red boxers, he was naked underneath the thick white bed sheets. Panicking, he tried to look for his glasses. Fumbling at the sheets and scattering items on the bedside table, the only thing running through his mind at that moment was to get dressed immediately and leave the room before Maria woke up…or came back.
Relax, Matthew Williams, you still have your underpants on. Nothing happened. Nothing you’re scared of could have happened last night. There is nothing to worry about. But, oh god, what if we almost went to third base?! He thought frantically, vaguely remembering the parts where they were rolling down the grassy knoll just outside the building and swaying in the gazebos, singing to their “Maru Kaite Chikyuu”s. He might have taken too much of that San Miguel beer.
She was going to hate him, that’s for sure. Being mistaken for his moron brother was one thing, but being compared to Alfred was another. That cocky bastard had the nerve to boast that “he had her first” and that he would never know how “she tastes like” and all the inappropriate things he had uttered while they were waiting for Maria at the corridor hall yesterday. He could do more than graze a shoe to his ear, and he wanted to. Alfred probably knew her more than he ever did, but nobody deserved to hear their secrets being told that way. Alfred’s obvious lack of tact, disregard to other’s personal issues and blatant display of arrogance at that time clearly stated the obvious: he was jealous of him.
“Oh, good, Kuya! You are awake na!”
“MARIA!” Startled, the blonde turned around, turning red and quickly drawing the bedsheets over his nakedness. “You are here-! I mean you are awake! I mean-well it’s your room, I-I’m…”
Matthew couldn’t see anything except her blurred form in a colorful loose garment approaching him quickly. Seeing that there was no way he could make himself disappear through the sheets, Maria reached him and shoved him back against the bed, and just before he could shield his head with his arms, she lightly placed his glasses over his eyes.
He could see her clearly now.
“You idiot,” she grinned, her deep brown eyes smiling as she tapped his head gently. “You passed out last night in front of my room soaking wet! I had to remove your clothes or you would have gotten a cold! I hope you didn’t mind that I had to take off your glasses---you nearly broke them!”
“Uhm, thanks.” He replied shyly, adjusting his glasses. “Maria-about last night, nothing happened. Right?”
“Something happened.”
He choked.
“It was a BLAST!” she exclaimed, nearly sending a half-naked Matthew to the carpeted floor. “Who knew that you could party so hard, even with your sprained ankle! I was pretty worried when you dragged me to the town’s park. You almost threw up on the fountains!”
“I thought you were the one who dragged me there!”
“No, I took you to the Filipino district nearby. We continued our karaoke session there! Then you dragged me to the park!”
He remembered the San Miguel beer-after three bottles he felt his head being hammered while they were singing a duet rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.
No wonder he thought he was dreaming few minutes ago. He turned the radio alarm off.
“T-there is a Filipino district here?”
“Just like Kuya Yao has a Chinatown everywhere! It’s several blocks away from our Hotel.”
“How did we even get there?!”
“Um, I hailed a cab.”
“I don’t remember riding a cab!”
Maria let out loud boisterous laughter, clutching her sides as she did. Matthew realized he was being a worrywart again and started to laugh with her as well. He was relieved that nothing had happened between them intimate-wise and that they had both enjoyed each other’s company for the entire night. Sure, he didn’t remember some details, but it was one of the most thrilling and fun joyrides he had ever had in recent times. Ever.
“Say Maria, what time is it?” he scratched his head, getting distracted by Maria’s clothing: a very colorful loose, lightweight, sleeveless housecoat. “There will be a short briefing this afternoon. I need to be there---”
“It’s already 2 in the afternoon, actually,” she replied as she got off the bed, tying her hair swiftly into a ponytail before twisting it into a small bun.
She is lovelier with hair cascading down her shoulders---
Setting himself loose from his reverie, he gaped at her, his big blue eyes widening. “I-IT’S ALREADY AFTERNOON?!?” Matthew quickly jumped off the bed, scurrying around the floor frantically in search of his clothes. “I was asleep that long?! The meeting will start at four! Oh, dear!”
Maria was strangely calm as she headed to the room’s small adjoining kitchen. He could smell something fried with garlic. “Kuya, you drank so much last night that you slept like the dead!” she called out while scooping something out of a pan. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I let you sleep! And it’s still 4 pm pa naman-have some brunch, at least!”
Matthew found only a pair of socks, with one of them stuck underneath the door. He carefully opened it, only to be greeted by a stunned Honda Kiku walking across the hall, having just bought manga from the hotel’s bookstore.
Both being too shocked to see each other so unexpectedly, the taciturn nation was the first to speak.
“R-Resolving the Visiting Forces Agreement issue---Alfred-san?”
Realizing he was naked save for his red boxers, the Canadian quickly slammed the door shut.
Matthew opened the door briefly again, “-I’m not America! I’m Canada!” before slamming it shut one more time.
Honda was left to wonder outside.
--
“Maria, I can’t find my clothes!” he groaned, searching the room with his things scattered on the floor. “I think my foot is much better now, but I can’t find my other shoe either! Look, I need to go back to my room and--”
“’Sus, they are not dry yet!” she called out. “Look, Kuya, you can take a bath and get dressed here. I have some clothes that you can use. Just have something to eat muna!”
“You are really insistent, aren’t you?” he sighed, and saw her peeking out of the kitchen while holding a spatula, a warm smile on her face. He couldn’t get frustrated and annoyed by that sweet endearing expression. Any form of worry was dispelled quickly.
“Just some of my world-renowned hospitality,” she winked. “You know, Kuya Alfred likes everything fried. He can’t believe I thought of this! He wished he came up with the same idea with mash potatoes!”
“What is it?” he sniffed curiously, going inside the kitchen. “Smells like fried garlic.”
“FRIED RICE!”
“Fried-rice.” Matthew repeated, thinking of all the cholesterol that would clog his arteries. Yes, Alfred liked everything fried-this was the guy who thought up “bacon explosion” and “fried milk”. He cringed at the thought of fried rice. Maria set a plate of slightly oiled white rice on the table, alongside a bottle of orange juice and a plateful of cheese omelettes and slices of canned luncheon meat. He noticed something on the counter, a pancake shaped yellow-brown dough with egg slices and white cheese emitting a slightly burnt smell, wrapped lightly in a banana leaf.
“Kuya, don’t be afraid to try out the fried rice,” she said as if reading his worried expression, while pointing at the empty darkened pan at the same time. “I cooked it after the omelettes and the luncheon meat. It’s really tasty, and it won’t be complete without a few cloves of garlic! It smells good, doesn’t it?”
He could hear his stomach grumble, “Yes, it does-“ his gaze still affixed to the slightly burnt, pancake-like pastry. “Maria, what’s that-? It looks like a pancake.”
“Wah, I forgot to cook one for you---!”
“No, it’s okay, what is it?”
“It’s a rice cheesecake called bibingka,” she replied. “Your dad calls it Filipino pancakes. Technically that’s what they are, except we put a lot more ingredients and glaze them with coconut strips and not syrup.” She let out a small sigh- she was supposed to set them aside for Alfred, but obviously the American ate Arthur’s share. She hadn’t forgotten what the two did to her yesterday.
Matthew was about to sit down when Maria pulled him lightly by the arm. “Ah, Kuya, I almost forgot! Before you eat, let me see if the clothes here will fit you!”
“It will be awkward if I wear your clothes, Maria---“
“Who said anything about my clothes, loko ka!” she chuckled softly, pushing him towards one of her bags. Digging to the bottom, she threw him a pair of tan colored slacks, black loafers, a long-sleeved white polo shirt and a coffee-brown blazer.
Matthew tried on the pants and the polo shirt. It was a snug fit.
“Just as I thought,” she said, sounding very pleased as she looked at him from top to bottom. “His clothes fit you perfectly! I think he wouldn’t even recognize them today- those have been around since 1991!”
“He-?” Matthew looked up as he tried on the brown hooded jacket.
“Oh, you know, your idiot brother-Kuya Alfred…” Maria’s words rolled out as she looked at him longingly. With Alfred’s clothes on, Matthew was the spitting image of his brother from head to toe, but she could tell the difference in their personalities by the look of their eyes. Alfred was always cocky, overly confident. Matthew was warm, polite and friendly, and did not share the boisterous and arrogant display of behavior that his brother had. Well, probably only when he played hockey. She couldn’t forget that picture in his room.
Matthew gave her a confused expression.
She remembered how she had seen such a familiar expression from Alfred before,
“Sally, you know I have no choice!” he called out, their voices drowned out by the loud whirring sounds of the helicopter behind them. “It’s no longer safe here-I have to pull out!”
“Kuya!” she shouted, looking worriedly at the sky. It was barely 10 in the morning, yet dark clouds hung heavily and gray ash started to fall onto the ground like light snow. It had begun. “You helped me prepare for this, that’s all that matters! Now, go!”
“-Are you going to be alright?”
“I can manage, Kuya! I’m going to be fine!”
“Last time you said that, you looked close to dying!”
“Maria?” Matthew said once again. “Maria, are you alright?”
“Huh?” she blinked back her reverie and shook her head, blushing a little. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just I remembered Kuya Alfred when you wore them!”
“If it’s a bad thing, I can always get-“
“No, no! It’s okay! Really!” she gestured with both hands in the air. “I’m sorry, I know how tired you are of always being mistaken for him!”
“No, you didn’t,” he smiled sadly. Maria probably didn’t realize it but Matthew noticed the pained expression on her face when he wore Alfred’s clothing. There were times when she would sparkle at the mere mention of his name, and then she would suddenly be quiet and withdrawn when she saw something that reminded her of him. He wondered just how complex her relationship was with his brother.
“You said you just remembered-I can’t fault you with that,” he continued, then asked curiously, “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up having a complete set of clothes from Alfred?”
It was then that Maria blushed deeply and bowed her head, wishing she could hide under the mounds of clothing she had taken out. Matthew quickly realized what the awkward silence meant.
“Oh---OH! I shouldn’t have asked!” he apologized. “I’m sorry!”
“Kuya Matthew, I hope you are not thinking what the other nations think of me,” she said in a deep and serious tone. “I heard the whole conversation when you and Kuya Alfred fought yesterday. It’s unnecessary to brag such conquests to other nations-it just proves what everyone is saying behind my back-and because he IS America, he makes it sound like I’m a-“ her voice trembled, “I’m a wh-“
“No!” Matthew interrupted.
“Kuya Matthew-“
“No, Maria! Don’t say it! You are not like that, okay?” he knelt down in front of her, and Maria could see the intensity in his bright blue gaze. “Whatever special relations you have with my brother is no one else’s business if it does not involve world affairs. It’s also none of my business. If you didn’t do anything wrong, there is nothing to be ashamed of! What do they know, anyway? You are sweet, accommodating, you are-”
“You don’t know my history, Kuya.” She replied, bowing her head and wiping her tears as she sniffed. “It’s complicated. I will have to tell you some other time.”
“I see.”
For a moment, Matthew didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell Maria to drop the formalities and call him only by his name-she was being way too polite. He assumed this was probably caused by the years of servitude in the houses of several nations.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head again and turned to the open luggage.
“And speaking of his clothes, Kuya, you have to take a bath first before wearing everything! Take that off, I happen to have one of his more casual shirts here. You can wear that with your…err…boxers!”
And just like that, Maria reverted to her old self: selfless, worrying about the task at hand and reigning in any problems she was dealing with for the time being.
There was a lot about her he needed to know.
Distracted, Matthew didn’t notice that Maria had finished talking until he was greeted by a white shirt thrown straight at his face. He opened it, and nearly grimaced to see the image of a man holding out a big American flag emblazoned on the middle, with a line of text below it saying: “America is awesome, man.”
She laughed lightly, “I know! It’s not exactly what you want to wear! But I think it’s comfortable!” She could see the reluctant look on Matthew’s face as he held the shirt. “Don’t be shy, Kuya. It’s not like I will see anything I haven’t seen before! Change your clothes so you can eat na! I will re-heat the bibingka for you if you want!”
“Um, sure, thanks.” He reluctantly took off the pants and the polo shirt, putting the other shirt on. He wanted to elevate Maria’s mood after all that she had done for him since yesterday.
“So, Maria!” he said cheerfully, adjusting the frame of his glasses as he headed to the small dining table. “Can you tell me how I ended up throwing up near the fountains at the town’s square? I really can’t remember anything after my sixth bottle of beer!”
---
Back to Francis’s room
“You bloody bastards! That will teach you both who you are dealing with-and I STILL FUCKING HAD IT!” Arthur growled before uttering a dozen more curses as he scrambled clumsily for his clothes, fumbling with his sweater vest and blazer before stumbling into his pants. His face glowed a bright red while his eyes were still blood shot from last night. His face was also unshaven and a part of his left eyebrow was pulled off at the side. Arthur was still wearing the ridiculous Wonder Woman costume, but the Englishman did not care-he would be late for the meeting and there was paperwork needed to be prepared.
“I wouldn’t mind being beaten up by Wonder Woman~”
“FUCK YOU, FRANCIS!” he cursed, kicking Francis repeatedly as he lay on the floor, beaten up but still laughing like a sick fool. Arthur wanted to kick him some more if only he weren’t in a hurry. Antonio was beside him, still groggy after getting bashed by an empty wine bottle on his head. There were still some glass shards in his hair and probably some scratches inflicted on his face, but along with the Frenchman, he was laughing like a nutcase.
“¡El pirata del asno ha sido asno violado!” He leered, sitting up and brushing off the shards of glass from his hair.
“Mon dieu, an ass pirate! That ez a good one, L’Espagne!”
Arthur shot them both a long hard glare before stomping out of the room in full fury. No sooner than he had slammed the door hard behind him, the two of them sat up and leaned against the wall, laughing very hard.
“That viejo hombre still got it in him, eh?” Antonio rubbed the back of his head and pulled out a shard. He would need to put gauze on it later. “Admit it Francia, even if he still got us again, getting a chance to beat him for no particular reason never felt so good!”
“Oui! I agree. We can even make it an annual celebration!”
The Spaniard chuckled, grabbing one of the bottles that Arthur used to hit him with. “You know all that silly talk of yours with Inglaterra about stimulating the senses? Why didn’t you just tell him you were serving Veneziano’s rare wines?”
“Hm, where ez the fun in that?” Francis replied, holding out what looked like a black thong-the victorious prize he ‘pulled out’ from Arthur a while ago. “When he saw Ivan tipsy and giddy at the last G8’s meeting at Veneziano’s, he was panicking like hell and avoided drinking it at all cost!”
He poked a digit against Antonio’s cheek. “You, on the other hand, mon ami, I warned you not to drink too much! You owe me one for the damages!”
“Alright, alright!” Antonio reacted defensively, pushing himself off the wall. “By the way, now that my head is all cleared up-I want to ask, did someone really, you know, get him from behind?”
“The truth? Well, I did get him once after accidentally getting drunk and moping ab-“
“NO! I mean last night!”
“Oh that, it was nothing L’Espagne~! When we were trying to pin you down on the ground, he slipped and fell on the missing plate of escargot!”
“So nothing really happened.”
“Non! Not at all!” Francis stated proudly, “But seeing Angleterre react like that was utterly inestimable! I want to see how far he is going to assume someone rode him~”
“You are one sick bastard!”
“Yes, a bastard avec la classe!” he blew a kiss, and Antonio merely shrugged, his thoughts starting to drift somewhere else. Francis continued.
“And since you said your head is all cleared up, what will you do now with Amerique?”
A short tension hung in the air before Antonio replied grimly, his green eyes dim. “I need to have a serious talk with him. I really need to know how it happened. I taught my hija better than to give it up like that to that idiot.”
“You raised her much too conservatively, L’Espagne.”
“I did it for her own good!”
“Hm, whatever you say, my friend!” Francis answered, stretching and slowly standing up, shaking out his limbs as he did. “Speaking of which, did anyone see Amerique?”
“BLAWHHHAACCCKKKK! OH FUC----BLWACHH”
“I think he is in the guest’s bathroom,” Antonio said flatly, pointing at the door. Francis leapt out quickly in no time.
“AMERIQUE! DO NOT THROW UP ON THE EXPENSIVE CARPET!”
--
It took about one hour of Alfred throwing up all over the bathroom and Francis crying about room renovations that Antonio took the time to clean himself up. It was a good thing he had a habit of bringing some spare clothes with him every time he was invited by the amorous Frenchman-it would be an embarrassment to end up wearing Francis’s brightly mismatched and sometimes “revealing” outfits.
After taking a bath and changing into clean clothes, he wondered if he could hide the 1-inch bleeding gash on his scalp. It was a little too hard to ignore someone walking around with a 2-inch gauze pad patched at the back of his head. Ah, well, maybe they wouldn’t mind.
He was also starting to feel the beating he endured last night, his jaw still raw and throbbing. Antonio walked quietly barefooted across the living room, down to the dining area, and towards Francis’s fridge. His green eyes searched the frozen meat section, and with a sigh of relief, thanked the saints in heaven upon seeing that it was well-stocked with frozen meat and wursts. Grabbing the biggest frozen steak, he wrapped it with a thick table napkin and placed it gently on his cheek.
“¡Ah, dios mio! That really hurts-“
He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he saw Alfred Jones standing a few feet away from him. He looked like a total mess: there was a crack on his glasses and his dirty blonde hair had a large, strange cowlick sticking up in a peculiar direction. Bits of his vomit were still on his crinkled shirt and he had a big scratch on his right upper cheek.
“Hmph, somebody came around.” Antonio frowned, muttering a curse under his breath.
"I know what's going through your mind right now," Alfred spoke, as if to answer the bitter expression written on the Spaniard’s face. "What I said last night was not like what you think it is. Just hear me out."
"Are you still drunk?" he replied sarcastically, holding the slab of frozen steak to his cheek. His gaze wandered to the bottle that Alfred was holding.
"Oh, this is flavored water. You know, to wash the bile-"
"...Right."
Alfred motioned with one hand. "Can I have a-"
Without saying a word, Antonio tossed a pack of frozen wursts to the American. In no time, Alfred placed it between his legs, his mouth forming a soundless "Oh, yeah," as the cold, hard wursts pressed against his sore crotch.
"Too bad I missed," Antonio mumbled as he walked past him. Alfred jumped back a little upon hearing the words.
"Y-You’re not going to attack me with that steak, are you?" he asked meekly. The Spaniard looked over his shoulder and was greeted by the sight of Alfred's terrified big blues staring back at him while holding a pack of wursts protectively over his crotch. If the situation did not call for it, then he would have laughed.
"No, I'm not. Well-at least not today," he stated calmly, trying to inject some dry humor into the situation with his words. His green gaze flickered directly towards Alfred before sitting down on a long sofa behind him. "You said you could explain what you said last night about my hija."
"Yeah."
"Well? Come and sit over here."
"...No, thanks, I will sit over here," Alfred said defensively, trying to sit down slowly on the cold marble floor. But as soon as his behind touched the hard marble, a sharp jabbing pain shot up his spine, and he bolted up with a whimper.
"I kicked you before I-"
"I know, I KNOW!" he grumbled, reluctantly stomping towards Antonio's direction. Alfred sat on the farthest edge of the sofa, letting out a small sigh of relief as he sank down upon its cushioned softness.
"I think it explains everything," Antonio finally spoke, staring at the cold, sweating steak in his hands. "I really can't bring myself to ask her if the rumors are true. After the war, her trust in me died. It’s not like I really had a choice, but I can see that bitterness every time she sees me."
"A war can change anyone, Antonio." Alfred then paused, "What do you mean rumors?"
As usual, you have no idea.
“Honestly? It’s really a very straightforward one.”
“Heh. I’m pretty straightforward with anything!” Alfred managed a small grin, “So tell me, what rumors?”
Antonio rubbed his jaw, “Your diplomatic ties with my hija-everybody is saying that you screwed her so hard and so many times that it damaged her way of thinking, to the point that it has become totally irreversible.”
Alfred’s jaw dropped. “I had no idea! I know some of her Asian siblings do not like how I’m associated with her. But that’s just about it!”
“Well, that’s what they say about her sometimes. I call it colonial mentality,” Antonio continued, his tone serious and bitter. “And for someone who likes to meddle with other nations’ affairs all the time, you barely know what goes around them. Sometimes I wonder if Inglaterra dropped you on your head when you were younger!”
He could tell that Alfred was getting embarrassed and had remained strangely quiet throughout his lecturing, fiddling with the pack of wursts with great interest as if he were studying the world map.
“Do you know that even right now I still want to hit you-“ he gritted his teeth, clutching the meat tighter with his fingers; Alfred glanced at them with silently growing terror, “-really hit you when you said those words about my hija? I know this is what you call conservative garbage, but you have everything to gain in what she is to lose.”
//--//
It was an arduous task raising the young Filipinas after learning that he was, in fact, a girl. Antonio had never raised a young female, which nearly gave him a nervous breakdown in trying to work out how to deal with it. He knew he had to eventually encounter the following: self-esteem issues, erratic mood swings and unstable hormones. Later on the 1700’s all of these are starting to show, and he will console himself by talking to Francis, who is starting to raise a female colony of his own. It’s quite unimaginable for the Frenchman to have a soft side and raising a daughter, as he was known to flirt constantly with anyone regardless of gender. Sometimes Antonio felt he was hitting on him and he did not even know it. He never brought up the topic, since most likely Francis will point out his unusual fondness towards his young male colonies and mock him as a pédophile tomate-affectueux
But can he help it? They are all cute!
“You named her after your King? She ez going to curse you for giving her such a long name, L’Espagne!”
“Look, Francia, like I said, I thought she was a boy! If I only knew, I would have named her after my Queen!” he reacted embarrassedly, and pointed out, “But didn’t you name yours after your King’s Minister of Finance? What about that?”
“I named her after his last name. It’s rather short and unique sounding,” he replied smugly. “Filipinas-on the other hand, ez such a manly name for a female~”
“I compensated it by converting and giving her an appropriate Catholic name. You know, the other name.”
“Well, tell me!”
“Maria Salome Consolacion delos Santos y Carriedo!”
“…No wonder why she is really starting to hate you, L’Espagne.”
He was a busy man, exploring uncharted regions and discovering territories and not knowing how to raise a young girl, so he temporarily left her in the care of her older brother Alfonso, thinking it would be nice for them to get to know each other. But when the Mexican started to teach her how to hold firearms and drink liquor-with her running naked on the beach for a visiting Francis to see being the last straw-he quickly regretted the idea. The look on Francis’s face strengthened his resolve: a young, trusting little girl like her would be taken advantage of by other nations without his guidance. He would have the control of raising her solely from now on.
By this time, Salome had started to blossom and develop into a beautiful and tenacious young woman, and so grew the interests of the other nations to participate in foreign trading with her. Most of them were male nations and he never liked the idea of her relating with them for fear that “they would seize her vital regions”. He wouldn’t mind the longtime traders who had been doing business with her before him, such as Wang Yao. But it was the age of discovery, and everyone was trying to prove their worth by conquest. With his vast colonies and growing number of ‘children’ and fear that she would fall to a rival’s hands, he implemented the Spanish monopoly. To reign in her free-spirited nature, he raised her to fear religion and instilled strong religious morals in her. Her purity, her chastity as a woman was something she could only truly give when she married in a Catholic church with his blessing.
“Someday, I will get married, Papa,” she once said dreamily, gazing out of the windows at the dark, starry sky. “He will be a strong man, probably someone larger than life-someone who can show me the world!”
“No, you won’t get married,” he remarked curtly, pulling the drapes over the windows. “You know what will happen, right? You are a female: he will take over your regions, instill his beliefs and claim you as his conquest. There is nothing beautiful about that.”
She pouted, pushing the drapes away furiously. “That’s not all true! You know I can’t stay and live with you forever!”
“Hija-“
Salome would usually continue arguing but she remained quiet for a few minutes. In fact, she started to look embarrassed “Papa-?“
“Hmm?”
“I can tell you anything, right? Absolutely anything?”
“If it’s not about that marriage topic again, then yes.”
“I-I stained my garments today-and it’s not because I sat on your tomatoes again.”
It took a few minutes before what the words meant finally sunk in. When it did, he nearly fainted.
“Papa, Papa! Why is your nose bleeding?!”
//--//
Alfred knew he couldn’t keep his silence forever and watched as Antonio’s grip on the meat slowly relaxed. Even if he was just a foot away, he still couldn’t forget what happened last night. Maybe what he had seen was just a mere fraction of the Spaniard’s repressed fury, as Arthur used to regale him with tales about his battles as the English Pirate who fought the Spanish Conquistador when he was younger. He started to mellow and was already worn and tired by the time of his defeat in the Spanish-American war. It was the end of his era.
He took a deep breath, letting out one long sigh. “What has already happened cannot be undone, Antonio. But if there is anything I can say right now to make it better, I will say that you raised her well. You know she hasn’t completely forgotten.”
He remembered seeing Salome barging in wearing her terno, “Yes, I can see my influence during conference meetings. The way she wears her national-“
“No, not that. Her strong moral values! Do you know how stubborn she was that she turned down my offers of marriage several times?! Any former colony would have leapt at the chance! It was the World War and I knew it was the only way to protect her. She wasn’t even ready to be on her own, nor did she have any form of government-but she insisted that all she wanted was her independence!”
Antonio turned towards Alfred with a baffled expression written all over his face. He could not believe a single word that he was confessing. But the American was serious, and placed the pack of wursts down onto the floor, looking at him straight in the eye.
“She knew that she would make mistakes, but she told me that it was the only way she would learn. I told her that the transition wouldn’t be easy,” he continued, “But she told me that it was better to bear with the difficulty than having to live in fear under the control of someone else.”
“That was my fault,” Antonio sighed heavily, his tone filled with deep regret. “I held her back for 333 years. It was very different with her South American brothers, and you have no idea what it was like, having to lose them all almost at the same time. But what I don’t understand is why she refused your offer of marriage. It’s what she always wanted.”
Alfred lifted an eyebrow, “Really?!”
“Yes, she saw it as the only way for her to be free. When you presented yourself as the hero who would do just that, she pretty much fell in love with you!”
“Am-Am I her FIRST love?”
“Damn right, you are. And she really isn’t ready to be on her own. Sometimes I wish you really did marry her. At least I could accept what happened.”
Ignoring Antonio’s last words, Alfred continued. “Believe me, I really tried until 1942 when I was forced to leave her. But we end up having a mutual agreement, Sally and I. I would teach her everything I know about democracy so she could learn to rule on her own, and in return, I would always be welcome to set up camp and help her if the need arises. I told her once the war is over and she is ready, I would grant her independence.”
“1946-“
“Yes, and on my birthday too! July 4, 1946. But she never kept that date on her calendar.”
“You are a bad liar, Jones. You never completely left her until 1991, and you used her place as the backbone of logistic support during the Vietnam War.”
It was with that statement that Antonio elicited a nervous laugh from Alfred, and the blonde started to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, yeah-“
But then Antonio’s expression slowly changed, and his eyes focused on Alfred. “But if what you said is true, that she rejected your proposals all this time-explain to me what the hell you DID in February 1945.”
Alfred looked at him wryly: now, he gets it. “This is the sex before marriage issue isn’t it?”
“BUT you didn’t marry her! You just HAD sex with her!”
“Like I told you before, Antonio, it was in the heat of the moment! We didn’t see it coming either! Do you really need to know the specific details?!”
“YOU MADE HER CRY OUT PHRASES IN LATIN!”
“Look! After we did it, it was all awkward, okay? She wouldn’t talk to me about the incident after a month! When she came around to-well, that’s when she started getting clingy for years to come.”
“Did you ever wonder why?! You are her first love, her first kiss, her first-! You will have to accept it!”
You just didn’t do it to her once, or else there would be no crazy rumors going around about her.
“D-Does that mean you are giving me your blessing?”
Antonio gave Alfred a hard glare and was about to say his rebuttal when Francis barged into the living room.
“Mon Dieu! Are you two still going to continue your bickering for another hour? The meeting will start in an hour and no one in this room ez prepared!” he complained, and then stared at the pieces of packed meat at the floor. “And don’t waste my good food, L’Espagne! You have destroyed most of my furniture already!”
Alfred felt relieved that Francis had arrived just in time to save him from getting grilled, and quickly jumped to his feet, “I look like shit! I’ll take a bath now!”
“Indeed, Amerique, you smell like shite. Just like my bathroom’s upholstery,” Francis frowned, throwing some clean clothes he was carrying towards Alfred. “’ere, try wearing some of your brother’s old clothes. They seem to be the only ones you can fit in.”
“Oh man, I look friggin’ Amish with this shit!”
“Just shut up and hurry!”
When the American was out of earshot, Francis turned towards the Antonio, who looked worn out and stressed, clasping both hands together as he stared at the carpeted floor.
“So, Mon Ami, did you and Amerique have a serious conversation d'homme à homme? Learned anything useful?”
He looked up, his eyes quietly smiling as he turned towards him. “I raised her well, Francia. I raised her well.”
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To be continued! Oh joy, two weeks of absence due to IRL stress and this is the best I can come up with ||OTL Reviews and esteem-boosting comments are so needed, like you guys have no idea orz.
Doing Papa Spain / Salome inserts are so much fun (than I originally intended to) that I keep wasting my plotbunnies on them. Brother Mexico might make more appearances and probably Veneziano with palabok fiesta. And Puerto Rico...no, nah >_>
Also, I have a massive LSS on Journey and Taylor Swift songs when I did this.
And to those who made fanarts based on this fanfic, thank you soo much! I don’t know my work can inspire my readers (most of the chapters are by product of sleep depravity lol) to actually do fanart, I will be archiving them in my site soon!
Thanks to seikochan for doing the beta. I almost screwed up the 'raising their daughters' subplot @_@
Looking at my other chapters, I realized I really need beta haha...orz
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Fun Facts: Ivan getting drunk with wine is inspired by a real incident last July when Russia’s president Dimtry Medvdev got tipsy with the fine wines (that I mentioned) served during this year’s G8 summit where Italy is the host country. The Italian prime minister has to assist him and that’s Francis’s boss on the left, who also have his embarrassing drunken experience in a previous G8 conference. It’s too good to pass up.
This screams for fan art XD
Also, references are made about the impending Mt.Pinatubo catastrophe, San Miguel Beer and Clark Airbase.