[Fanfic] World 1-1
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Prussia/America
Word count: 460
Summary: The sex was amazing, but Prussia still has one thing on his mind.
Written for comment_fic(TFLN theme). Prompt:
(215): what is the appropriate waiting time between sex and playing super Mario brothers
(1-215): 6 min
Prussia glared at the bedside clock.
Three minutes and something-less-than-sixty seconds since orgasm.
Shit, he had ages to go. Impatiently, he tapped one foot against the other under the covers. Next to him (curled around him like some sort of fleshy tentacle monster was more accurate) and already fast asleep, America stirred slightly at the motion. The kid may have had super strength but he still went from sex to sleep in 0 to 60. Prussia couldn’t blame him though; he was ridiculously awesome in bed and could tire out anyone.
Not to say that Prussia wasn’t exhausted, too. He was. He was sated and sleepy, but the urge tugging at his mind was insistent and refused to let go and, god, how long did he have to wait?
He gave the clock another glance. Five minutes in, less than sixty seconds to go. He forced himself to stop fidgeting. Stared unblinking at the clock. He could do this. Back in the day, he’d planned entire wars around the concept of perfect timing.
Six. Little. Minutes. He could fucking do it.
Time seemed to still. Then that beautiful, wonderful clock moved and, yes!, he was there.
Using centuries' worth of stealth and reconnaissance training, he slipped out of bed and padded over to the living room. Back at his own place, he had all the new games and consoles, but America stocked the classics. The controller felt like home in his hands and soon he was lost in cheesy music, flagpole-jumping, and damn, Bowser used to shoot the most badass lances of flame.
This was almost better than sex.
“Dude, what the fuck!”
Prussia whipped around and saw America standing in the doorway, glasses back on and clutching the bed sheet around himself, a look of surprised hurt etched on to his face.
“I can explai-” He was cut off by another bout of synthesized music. The kind that indicated he’d just died. He spun back around to face the television right in time to see his little Mario guy fall off the bottom of the screen, victim of a vicious goomba attack. “Shit.”
Laughter came from behind him. “You suck at this.” America walked up to him, blocking his view of the screen and took the controller from his hands. “I can’t believe you! Playing without me? That’s messed up.”
"Hey, I have needs!” Prussia protested. Sometimes a man needed some solo time with his favorite video game.
America gave an exasperated shake of his head and retrieved the second controller while Prussia put the game into 2-Player mode.
Settling in on the couch, America turned to face him. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing: that you’d play without my awesome hero self, or that you’re playing naked.”
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Prussia/America
Word count: 460
Summary: The sex was amazing, but Prussia still has one thing on his mind.
Written for comment_fic(TFLN theme). Prompt:
(215): what is the appropriate waiting time between sex and playing super Mario brothers
(1-215): 6 min
Prussia glared at the bedside clock.
Three minutes and something-less-than-sixty seconds since orgasm.
Shit, he had ages to go. Impatiently, he tapped one foot against the other under the covers. Next to him (curled around him like some sort of fleshy tentacle monster was more accurate) and already fast asleep, America stirred slightly at the motion. The kid may have had super strength but he still went from sex to sleep in 0 to 60. Prussia couldn’t blame him though; he was ridiculously awesome in bed and could tire out anyone.
Not to say that Prussia wasn’t exhausted, too. He was. He was sated and sleepy, but the urge tugging at his mind was insistent and refused to let go and, god, how long did he have to wait?
He gave the clock another glance. Five minutes in, less than sixty seconds to go. He forced himself to stop fidgeting. Stared unblinking at the clock. He could do this. Back in the day, he’d planned entire wars around the concept of perfect timing.
Six. Little. Minutes. He could fucking do it.
Time seemed to still. Then that beautiful, wonderful clock moved and, yes!, he was there.
Using centuries' worth of stealth and reconnaissance training, he slipped out of bed and padded over to the living room. Back at his own place, he had all the new games and consoles, but America stocked the classics. The controller felt like home in his hands and soon he was lost in cheesy music, flagpole-jumping, and damn, Bowser used to shoot the most badass lances of flame.
This was almost better than sex.
“Dude, what the fuck!”
Prussia whipped around and saw America standing in the doorway, glasses back on and clutching the bed sheet around himself, a look of surprised hurt etched on to his face.
“I can explai-” He was cut off by another bout of synthesized music. The kind that indicated he’d just died. He spun back around to face the television right in time to see his little Mario guy fall off the bottom of the screen, victim of a vicious goomba attack. “Shit.”
Laughter came from behind him. “You suck at this.” America walked up to him, blocking his view of the screen and took the controller from his hands. “I can’t believe you! Playing without me? That’s messed up.”
"Hey, I have needs!” Prussia protested. Sometimes a man needed some solo time with his favorite video game.
America gave an exasperated shake of his head and retrieved the second controller while Prussia put the game into 2-Player mode.
Settling in on the couch, America turned to face him. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing: that you’d play without my awesome hero self, or that you’re playing naked.”