Work Text:
They had discussed it, like America had had to discuss it with everyone else too.
About the invasions, the threats, the animosity.
"I don't want to hear it, not right now," says Canada, "please."
Greenland and Venezuela aren't even the worst of it by this point. Alfred is aware of the soldiers working within his bounds and beyond them, their bubbling ambivalence, their unsmiling obedience, and feels what they feel.
About the allegations.
"It's the higher-ups," said Alfred, pale-faced with shame. "I swear it's not me, I would never–"
Everyone had just stared at him when it had come out that this apparently happened. How it could have was beyond anyone.
But the smart ones knew it wouldn't just be in America. They knew more had to be done and readied their police forces should any of those monsters be found in their lands.
About the war.
"It's my boss," he repeats to everyone, even as they glower at him or ignore him. "My people didn't want this."
"They voted for him," Mexico murmurs with a hint of sadness hidden under a gentle scoff.
"Have you seen the petrol prices?!"
Multiple countries gather around him with flames in their eyes.
"This is all your fault, America!"
Yes, he and Japan had discussed it already. All of those things that everyone was angry at America for now, including himself, including his own people.
He had expected shouting, to be called a hypocrite, to be pushed away. He knew Japan could give him a good punch. He deserved it.
America's ideals had been the sun and he kept falling and falling into the sea trying to reach them. It was obvious that his government didn't even care about those. There was no excuse anymore for all the actions they had taken until now. He was on the wrong side of history and for so long. In so many ways. He knew he must have looked like a fucking clown at this point.
But Japan had just looked at him like he was a kid again. That unimpressed frown glimmering with something misty, disgusted but still concerned.
"You put a stop to me once," Japan had said. "To the axis. But who halts America when the world needs it?"
"I don't know," Alfred had said, smiling. Countries weren't their own bosses. He was just following orders at this point. He felt stupid and exhausted. Bloated. Decaying. Was he going to die? Sometimes he thought he might - and soon. He could vomit but it wouldn't help.
Within his land, people roared in protest. Fires began to rage. Acid spilled into his throat. He had stared up at the sky, unable to meet his friend's eyes.
"Someone will have to. Things have gone too far."
Kiku had said it in a way much too gentle, as if to not press on a bruise with his words. There was a dragon to be slain, yes, but he still insisted on being polite to it.
Alfred did not take it personally. This was inevitable. America was not feeling very heroic anymore.
"I hope it happens soon," was all Alfred could muster.
In the night, Alfred holds his arms around his stomach which feels more like a balloon filled with needles, ready to pop. It can't be all the burgers, he's so used to eating at least this many.
It's his people.
Imprisoned, tormented, impoverished. The country is drying up under an unrelenting heat, a raisin in the sun of greed. Their fears sap him of energy, even as they try their best to go on with their jobs and their lives like things are somehow okay.
He passes out from the pain, wakes up at 5am rolling around in bed, can't sleep, then picks up his phone to doomscroll on some rich asshole's social media acquisition.
Food porn posts. Politics. Cute animal videos.
He spots a post in Japanese that's already translated without him having to click anything. A nifty new feature?
Not that he would have had to translate it in the first place. He's multilingual! America is a melting pot after all! (Well, he could mostly understand it, anyway.)
The translations seem okay from what he can tell. Posts about American barbeque from Texans, and Japanese responding with practically salivating admiration.
Posts about how this craving had caused barbeque shortages in certain Japanese spots.
For real?
Alfred can't help but give a chuckle of glee, flattered.
It does look delicious. He had eaten not too long ago… but who can resist barbeque? His stomach was hurting less now but still complained with a rumble. Oh, right.
The images of huge mounds of meat above red hot flames really speak to him. It lights his patriotism on fire somehow! The replies show apparently the same sentiment from a lot of Americans.
Another post was from someone mentioning how southerners enjoyed salted peanuts in cola as a hands-free snack while doing farmwork. They said they hoped others might give this old-school American food a try too.
The Japanese replies were full of people finding the combination extremely dubious before giving it a try and subsequently having their worlds rocked.
"There's no way it should be this good," one poster said. "I can't believe I hadn't tried it before."
Alfred can't help grinning and rolling around in his bed with a guffaw that Japanese would enjoy foods like this to such an incredible extent.
He has to text Kiku about it.
- hey man
have you seen this?
the American food posts where Japanese ppl are super tempted to try it
lmao -
He texts some links too.
- Yes.
I saw. -
Kiku replies. He must've been so quick because it's evening over there.
His dry tone reverberates in Alfred's mind as if in a dark cave. He can almost hear that voice, the gentle cadence of Kiku's accent pulling his words up and down as if he were singing.
- It's nice to see my people and yours enjoying themselves so much.
I only wish the food was a bit healthier. -
Alfred felt like he hadn't laughed in ages and now a geyser was springing from him and reaching up to the sky.
- it makes me feel so -
He begins typing.
Appreciated, he wants to say.
But his face drops from admitting that, from saying what everyone has already accused of being narcissism coming from him.
Was it a crime to feel this way when everyone looked down on him and his culture so much?
He didn't used to care about what everyone else thought. He didn't used to have to, though. He used to be so, so powerful and so, so young and both are slipping away now.
Kiku would probably think the boy was finally growing older if he knew what Alfred was thinking.
He sighs.
- happy -
He types instead, not lying either way.
There's a pause where Alfred thinks Kiku may have left to go and do his duties but the other man starts typing after a few moments.
He sends a few links first.
Alfred opens them and find photos of shrines in deep forests, sunrises illuminating sweet pink cherry blossom trees, the bustle of a city full of enchantments under neon lights. Japan.
- My people invite the Americans to come visit.
They seem to like our food, our landscapes, even our language... They say it's very beautiful.
That makes me happy as well. -
Alfred's eyes soften at the admission. He doesn't know what his face is doing before the corners of his lips tremble and rise on their own in a smile that he isn't even sure would have been shared.
Even glad, Kiku was so stoic and restrained.
- dude -
He types slowly. Deletes something. Types again. Actually thinks about what he wants to say.
- we should hang out more -
Was that too pushy? Too sudden? He knows Kiku doesn't like that sort of thing but it's just how he talks. He can't help it. Not for the first time, he feels a pang at how different they are.
But to his surprise, Kiku replies without much hesitation and with the kind of gusto that he'd have expected more from himself.
- We should. -
Alfred doesn't receive anymore messages after that but he's feeling too bashful and too weird to say anything more and like it's hard to breathe for some reason, so he puts his phone on the side table and tries to go back to sleep.
He rolls onto his back. Then his side.
He thinks about Kiku's boyish face. Those dark eyes looking right into him. That rare smile.
Just once, maybe twice, something was so funny that he showed his teeth and laughed out loud.
It felt like an achievement just to see it.
At some unknown hour, Alfred would finally fall asleep.
Dreams of Japan swirl in America's mind, hazy like old movies. A knowing voice saying things that sting. Warm hands in his hair, that same voice telling him to not be afraid.
Next time Kiku drops by to hang out, they are not in a serious mood.
Alfred gives him peanuts with cola because he wanted to try it too and Kiku can't seem to decide his opinion on it, remarking on the strangeness before taking another swallow and chew, and repeating that until he's finished the whole bottle. Alfred gives a laugh that he tries to turn into a cough.
They decide "weird but good" is the ruling on that for now.
Alfred has some barbeque and burgers in the fridge too, tries to stuff Japan's plate with it, but he asked for "small portions only please" which makes America argue that he needs to "live it up some more" while Japan snaps back with "and you should try to take better care of yourself".
Alfred does give him a smaller plate after going silent for a while.
And Kiku does like the barbeque so much that he has seconds (very rare!).
They take a walk around the garden, where America spots Canada and calls out to him with a wave and a "Hey bro!", forgetful, before Canada walks off without a look back. Alfred's smile vanishes and his hand lowers itself back down to his side, shoulders drooping.
Japan just looks at him, with some shine of pity in his eyes that he doesn't let out in his voice.
"…Would you like me to show you something?"
Alfred nods. They kneel down in some shaded part of America near a house near a forest while the sun turns red, ready to fall like an egg into that frying pan called night.
Kiku takes a ball of mud in his hand and shapes it into an orb until sturdy, pats some water and more mud all over, then takes the rim of an empty glass bottle and starts rubbing it all over the sphere. Alfred watches without a word, transfixed for what feels like hours, before Kiku holds the ball out to him.
Amazing.
Perfectly round like a golf ball, and smooth and glossy in a way that you would never expect mud to be. He had polished a ball of soil into some beautiful little thing.
"Dorodango," Kiku calls it. "Schoolchildren like to do this for fun. Something to do when you're bored, perhaps."
Alfred reaches out and takes it, mystified. He rubs at it and holds it up to the light. The Americans who hear about this game think it's either a waste of time or a really cool and meditative hobby.
Alfred feels like he and Kiku are schoolchildren, sitting here in the mud and grass and playing like this.
"…Can I keep this?"
"Yes, I made it for you."
Alfred stares down at the ball, face going warm, before noticing something.
"Ah, hey… Your uniform is gonna get all muddy."
Kiku's white uniform is showing brown and green stains already all over the knees of his pants. Alfred frowns, somewhat guilty. It's such a shame.
"It's fine."
Kiku's stands up and wipes at his pants but nothing happens and they don't improve at all. Unbothered, he offers a hand out to Alfred, who takes it with his free hand and gets back onto his feet.
Both of their hands are dirty.
Alfred puts the little bauble on his shelf later. There's trophies and awards there too, but it's stuff like this that he actually comes back to look at over and over again. Maybe he should make one of these someday, he thinks. For Kiku.
Japan knows about so many fun things. Alfred even has a kendama from him that he likes to play with sometimes, but he's not very good at it yet.
A few weeks or months go by - he's not sure anymore because a week feels like a month sometimes - but he does give making a dorodango a try a time or two.
He doesn't really have the patience for it and it dissolves into his hand or gets lumpy somehow and he moves onto something else. He'd really rather look at the one Kiku made him anyway. He hopes it doesn't disintegrate someday, but he dares to give it a poke and it doesn't yield.
He calls up Kiku to watch one of Japan's famously scary movies another time, like some kind of masochist, just because he misses him and can't think of any better excuse.
He's much better at handling Japan’s horror games than movies, but what would be the fun in suggesting that? Japan would have no reason to accompany him if he's not scared. (Although maybe they should play more video games together, start a streaming channel about it and… He'll think about that later.)
It's a strange thing to do and he has a lot of other things he could be doing, but his mind falls on Japan again and once it's there, he just can't pull it back.
"But you don't like horror movies?"
Kiku sounds terribly confused as to why Alfred would want to torture himself this way after the last horror movie they and a few other countries had watched at a Christmas party almost made Alfred puke into a bag of popcorn. He had instead puked into Russia's lap, who proceeded to choke him out with his scarf while they wrestled, giving everyone a second, highly entertaining movie to watch.
"No, you've got it all wrong! I love them! I just need to watch some more to train me to not be so scared when I watch them! You can help me with that, right? I mean, your horror movies, y'know, some people say they're the best…"
A little flattery can't hurt, and indeed, Alfred grins at his phone when Kiku sighs and agrees to show him some horror movies to 'increase his courage'.
How he's going to survive the movies though, he doesn't know.
Kiku tells him to come over to a park in Japan in the middle of the day and they proceed to watch a movie on his phone while seated on a wooden bench. It's propped up on a little tripod sort of thing so Kiku doesn't have to hold it up the whole time.
"The sunlight makes horror movies much less scary and so does the small size of a phone," says Kiku. "I also made the volume quiet, added subtitles even though it's in English, and there are people all over the place here, so if you get scared, just look around and you won't feel lonely. Understood?"
"Wow, you've really thought of everything! Dang, you're smart, Japan."
Maybe I should take notes, thinks America.
They make it about halfway through the movie and Alfred is feeling great about it. The story is thrilling and has some action to it, the monster hasn't even been shown yet, and the characters are interesting but relatable. His favorite part is the helicopter crash scene of course, it's so exciting how they managed to pull the protagonist's best friend out of it! So heroic!
He thinks he's finally going to be able to finish one of these damn things and he's enjoying hearing Kiku's commentary on certain cultural details that he doesn't know about that are used for foreshadowing, when suddenly, they show a victim who's a relative of the protagonist and how the monster is inside of this kid and oh, dear god–
Alfred lets loose a scream of pure fear at the thing, not even remembering that he's in public and that he screams like a girl. The thing is godawful, it makes his skin crawl and his spine turn to ice to see it, how it moves and skitters around–
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH" exits his mouth multiple times uncontrollably, as he shudders and buries his face into Kiku's back. He flings his arms around him and tries to hide himself behind the smaller man while shaking like a tiny dog, ready to piss himself if that thing gets any closer to the screen somehow.
"America-san, please," Kiku says, dumbfounded, "We're in public. Is it really that scary?"
"Yes, yes, please, turn it off, turn it off, oh god–!"
Even hearing the sound effects from that thing is making him feel increasingly queasy and the screams from the other characters just make him feel even more scared for them.
"Okay, okay."
Kiku leans forward to pause the film and turn it off.
"It's gone," he says, showing the phone with an innocuous wallpaper showing Kyoto scenery to Alfred who can only peek, terrified, while still holding onto him and shivering. "It's okay. You're safe."
"Th- thanks," mumbles Alfred.
This always happens! He could just slap himself for going and annoying Japan all the damn time this way but there's some part of him that he wants to bury and silence from screaming how much it enjoys this too. It's been a while since he's gotten a hug.
He doesn't let go, not for minutes and minutes that pass as Japan scrolls checking his emails and messages on various apps. But Kiku doesn't seem to care.
He's surprisingly warm and sturdy. Alfred holds onto him as if climbing a tree, arms wrapped around him tight, unwilling to stop and risk feeling frightened for his life again. Little kids pass by in the park and point at him and there's a few people around who give him concerned looks when they think he can't see, but still he stays attached to Japan like moss growing over a stone regardless of how appropriate it is.
"Do you feel better now?" Kiku asks after a while.
"I- I guess so. This was a pretty bad idea, huh? I'm sorry, Japan. I know you tried. You gave me some really good tips and I just couldn't help but ruin the movie anyway."
He babbles helplessly but Kiku is as neutral about it as ever and surprisingly kind.
"It's okay. You came close to watching the end. You made progress. You should be proud."
Alfred can feel the smile in Kiku's voice but he can't look because he's too busy burying his own face into that strong shoulder again. It's not just fear he feels.
He wouldn't mind repeating this again as long as there's someone to pull the plug when things go south. Really, as long as Japan is there.
Maybe someday he'll finally reach the ending.
A user on social media posted a picture of the meal they cooked - some kind of meat and rice dish that's trying to mimic Japanese cooking - and bemoaned the result, saying they tried their best even if it doesn't look too impressive.
A Japanese user quoted the post saying people of their culture would never insult someone's cooking that's made with love and that it looks delicious.
Alfred lays in bed and watches this conversation after not having slept for two days. He gives a laugh thinking about what Italy would say about this post. It's cute, it's heartwarming, and it's surprisingly courteous for social media.
It makes him miss Japan.
He can't afford to feel this way, can't afford to miss Japan when the guy lives thousands of miles away. Sure, they can visit whenever they want (aren't they as nations nebulous concepts more than physical beings anyway?) but Japan is usually busy and Alfred is swamped in shit he should be doing instead of languishing on his phone and yearning. He has no time for that kind of thing.
Not that he particularly wants to be doing anything his government has asked him to lately, nevermind his boss or the higher ups-- fuck 'em. But he knows that there are actual duties he could be taking care of for his people too and those are important.
And he will. Soon.
Which explains exactly nothing about why he would look up Japan's contact number in his phone and randomly just call him.
'What am I doing?' he thinks to himself but there's zero explanation other than his brain is actually rotting into mulch from all the social media scrolling.
He waits through the beeping until a click can be heard and a polite "Hello, Japan speaking".
"Japan, hey, it's me," he says, a little breathless, and jiggles his leg up and down with the excess energy.
"Ah, America-san, it's been a while, hasn't it? Was anything the matter?"
"Not at all, I just–"
'Wanted to hear your voice,' his mind supplies but his mouth clamps up on the words. 'Want to see you so bad it hurts,' comes next.
"Uh," he explains eloquently.
Japan hums, as if there's anything of substance to understand in what had been said.
"You could use some company, am I correct?"
Alfred exhales harshly.
"You get me."
"I see," Kiku's voice crackles in his ear. "I have some business to attend to early tomorrow so I can't come over and see you at the moment. I assume you're in a similar predicament since you are calling rather than visiting."
"Yeah," he replies. He has big things he should be doing. So doing other big things is out of the question, even if he's going to procrastinate anyway.
"I can talk to you over the phone while I do this paperwork, if that's acceptable."
Alfred can hear the scratching of a pen on paper, some documents for his government probably. More responsible than himself, as always.
"That's very acceptable, Japan. Thank you."
His voice almost flows out like a purr, a bit overly polite and gentle for America's voice, but if it bothers Kiku, he doesn't say as much.
"I have to say, America-san, I feel that you're really growing up."
"…Uh-huh." Alfred says, doubtful.
"You're suffering a lot lately, I can tell, but you're also becoming more mature. This pain will only make you stronger as a nation - if you do survive it."
"What makes you think I'm growing up?"
"You don't shout constantly anymore and you say 'please' and 'thank you'."
Alfred snorts.
"Is that all it takes to impress you? I can be polite. I can be the most polite guy ever. Maybe."
"Your people are also taking more interest in countries other than their own, which is interesting. I don't believe it used to always be that way."
A loud 'skritch skratch' from the pen can be heard, like Kiku crossed something out.
"You really think so? I mean. America was number one. Still is, in a lotta ways." Alfred smirks and runs a hand through his own hair, though there's no one to see him. "There wasn't much need for that at the time."
Japan 'hmm's at him. It has the essence of a scoff behind it.
"Hey, it's true," Alfred adds.
"Looking beyond yourself can be fun and interesting as well, America-san. I believe you are the one who told me this once. That learning about other cultures is enriching to your own."
"Yeah, but look who's talking. You were closed for so long, I had to come open you up."
Japan says nothing and the sounds of pages turning can be heard.
America sweats a little and feels worse the longer he thinks about what he just said in silence.
"Fuck. I'm sorry, dude. Shouldn't have said that. I hope we're cool. That was a while back."
"It's fine. It really was a long time ago." Kiku's voice is quiet. Alfred presses his phone tightly to his ear. "But I still remember it. You were still quite small."
Alfred's face gets hot whenever Japan reminds him that he's younger than him. He doesn't think it's embarrassment or emasculation, but it might be somewhere in that range. It's weird. This doesn't happen with everyone else. His heart pounds. He feels like he's suffocating, but it's not unpleasant.
"You were just a little boy country and I, well. I did not want to see you at the time. You've caused me much trouble throughout history, as I'm sure you well know."
America hums, pensive.
"We all cause each other problems as nations. But I don't think you can regret it though. Us meeting."
'I don't want you to,' he thinks.
"You've benefited from it too," Alfred adds in haste. "Realistically speaking."
"Of course," says Kiku.
The sound of Japan putting his pen down on his desk makes Alfred startle. The phone was much too close to his ear, which feels sore and pink. He swallows and finds his throat dry.
"…Even if I wanted to.”
"Sometimes I wish you were closer by," Alfred says as they stroll through a park on the west coast.
It's actually so dark that it looks like night at 4pm, the sky sunless and bathing everything in an eerie blue light. It looks more like water than air. You could almost expect fish to glide by, for bubbles to erupt every time you breathe.
Kiku stays silent for a while as they walk. He had come over originally for tourist activities and went shopping already for western comic books and America-exclusive merch of various series that he likes. He's visited attractions like national parks, theme parks, and other tourist traps as well.
Alfred had rushed over to the location as soon as he was aware that Kiku was in the vicinity of his geography. He could feel it like something traveling in his veins.
Kiku doesn't seem to like to meet up with Alfred much at stores or in buildings in general. Alfred gets the feeling it's because he knows most of that stuff exists to construct an image.
A lot of his own real infrastructure, he can admit, is poorly maintained, designed in malevolent ways, or just so utilitarian that it's ugly. He knows. He's seen other countries. Not to mention, they had encountered a bunch of litter sitting in the bushes on the side of the parking lot to enter this very park. Things are not perfect and that's the reality.
He gets the impression that certain places, quiet ones, are the only places you can honestly get a feel for what a country is really like and that's what Japan is trying to do now.
Still, he wouldn't mind accompanying Kiku to some tacky Mystery Shack or Haunted Manor type of place either. Might be fun. Or an aquarium or museum… Anywhere is good, as long as they're together.
Few people walk in the opposite direction, returning back the way they came, and give a greeting to the two men, quick but friendly. None of them recognize Alfred, their own country walking beside them, his hair a mess from the winds, glasses crooked, even as he shoots back excited "Howdy!"s.
"I feel the same way. Do you remember Pangaea?"
"No, not at all," America replies, his shock rising a bit. He suspects he was something or someone else back then and he was reborn as this, perhaps when the continental plate moved to the location it's presently at on the globe. But it's not like he remembers much from his infancy anymore.
"I don't think anyone does," says Kiku, as Alfred's heartrate calms down. ('Okay, good, so I'm not that stupid or forgetful! Yeehaw!') "It would be nice for everyone to be so close again. But a bit frightening in some cases too."
"Oh yeah, you're right. I mean, sometimes I'm glad that England isn't around. And Russia too. We'd be squeezing each other's necks all day!"
"Mm," Japan agrees. "There's positives and negatives to distance."
A hundred questions and comments lie at the tip of America's tongue about Japan's feelings on that, on him.
"But I miss you," he says. "All the time."
"It's the same with me," says Kiku to Alfred's surprise. "But then, it's nice to see you. It wouldn't be nice to see me anymore if you saw me every day."
"I don't think that's true." Alfred's throat tightens as if a pebble got lodged in it. "I don't know. Maybe you're right. But I. I don't think so."
He knows that he can be difficult to tolerate though. Maybe he would be the one to wear on Japan's nerves if they saw each other too much. So maybe it's a good thing that they can't.
It hurts, but maybe it's for his own good. So that Japan can be his friend now.
"I wanna show you something. Can I hold your hand?"
They're in the middle of a long path with nothing and no one around except the tall trees that surround them.
Kiku holds his hand out, calm and not even questioning it, when Alfred threads their fingers together. His hands are so much bigger. But Kiku's hands are so boyish and smooth and pretty.
"See," he says, trying to make this sound scientific, almost clinical. "It's like if Japan were attached to California or something. And these points here would connect there…"
Japan hums and stares at their hands. His eyes darken beyond belief as he bites his lip. Alfred's face feels hot, his mind fuzzy.
Their hands are warm together against the cool and scathing wind. Alfred can feel Kiku's hand sweat just the slightest bit. His own must feel the same.
"What if that happened?" Asks Alfred, dazed. "What if the plates moved like that and we were attached together someday?"
Kiku stares up at him.
"America-san."
He brings his other hand to hold Alfred's between both of his, eyes wide.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yeah," says Alfred. He stares back at Kiku and there's nothing on his mind but knowing. Knowing what he wants out of everything that he doesn't.
"Don't you want to try it?" He whispers, looking down at Kiku's mouth, at the curve of his lips.
Japan gives his bottom lip another bite, hard, almost as if to hold himself back, before his free hand tugs America's face down to kiss him. A harsh wind rolls through the forest as a bolt of white lightning lights up the sky.
Their mouths move together in a rush, how Alfred imagines the land trembles and crashes during earthquakes, licking into Japan's mouth and biting at his lips as he's so desperately wanted to do since he first saw the way he does it to himself. They're soft, slightly chapped, and Kiku's bottom lip bounces back against his teeth with a soft moan every time he nips at it.
Kiku's tongue slips into his mouth but it feels like only now that he can finally breathe. Finally, after all this time. Alfred groans when their tongues stroke against each other. He can feel molten lava flowing inside him, moving beneath his land, boiling like blood. Tiny droplets of rain fall from the sky, relieving him of the explosive heat spreading over his skin.
Their bodies fit together so well, their heights perfectly matched so that Alfred can crowd against Kiku and hold him close, trace fingers under his shirt and up his back until Japan is shivering with sensitivity.
They're perfect for each other, thinks America. Made for each other.
Japan makes sweet sounds that go into America's ears and travel straight down to his dick. He's achingly hard when he pulls away from Kiku, both of them panting, not wanting to scare him off.
Kiku looks so good like that, lips swollen and face flushed, his shirt damp from the drizzle. It's burned into his retinas like the flash of a photo.
The two have been so distracted that they don't notice when a couple of guests come their way from behind to pass by. They don't greet or acknowledge the men in any way, as they're busy having their own hushed conversation drowned out by the wind, but seeing them shocks the two nations out of their reverie.
"Ah," Japan makes a cute embarrassed expression suggesting it, "maybe we should go back soon."
"Right," Alfred replies, already wanting to kiss him again.
'When am I gonna get a chance to see you again? I want you so much. I miss you already.' Anxious thoughts multiply in his head but go unvoiced.
They run together through the rain. He doesn't let go of Kiku's hand for as long as he can.
The next time they see each other, Japan comes over at night. This is odd enough in itself but America is also in a profoundly strange and dark mood.
His boss is taking out his insecurities on everyone else in some astounding new way no one's ever had both the power and derangement to be able to do, while the higher-ups are scheming something ugly for the world that he only hears about in whispers. America himself is the one taking all the blame, as always, even though most of his people aren't even benefiting from the political mess that's constantly playing out at this point. He never in his life thought he would ever wish that he had been born less powerful, less influential. But he's being used and not for anything good.
There's very little he can do to stop the dominoes set in motion now. Especially when his people aren't united at heart. They're more similar than different, entirely human - the issue is that they focus on the differences, not the commonalities.
Part of the trouble with being a product of theft, he thinks at his lowest points. A product of slavery. Of wealth inequality. Of so many horrible things he couldn't control when he was small. Things that are still beyond him. He feels revolted at himself, what he came from, all that death, what he's become.
He looks at his hands and thinks of a different world but he's in this one and the consequences of his actions ripple against everyone else as does the wind of a hurricane. The smallest things can grow and become unforgivable.
He feels there's nothing he can do that doesn't hurt someone.
He doesn't want to talk about that though, so he doesn't.
He doesn't ask why Japan has arrived at 2am or why he didn't call first or if anything is wrong. He doesn't really want to talk at all.
"We should take a bath together," says Alfred.
He's not drunk. He was drunk yesterday but not today, the law be damned. He says it clear and slow and the words surprise no one. If anything, they're like a form of resignation, tired and searching.
Kiku looks around his home, at the piles of clothes on the floor, garbage bags by the door, piles of clutter that reach the ceiling - and just waits for him to elaborate.
They had talked about this kind of thing before, mainly in the context of how to save money on the water bill at the time, but Alfred offers nothing in the way of explanation now. Alfred thinks maybe he's just gone insane. That's his excuse.
As far as America goes, Alfred's saving grace is that he doesn't drink constantly, that despite how bad his house has gotten there's no roach infestation (yet), and that the clutter isn't so bad that you can't walk around it. Also, it doesn't smell because he sprays it down. Still, it's lost the glory it held just a few decades ago.
"I thought Americans were very shy about nudity," says Kiku.
He looks tired too somehow. Almost easy to anger with the way his brows draw forward. Seeing the mess within America has ignited something like terror in the way his eyes sweep back and forth, but he doesn't let it show with a single stutter. His voice is mild and bland as milk and just as opaque.
"That's not a no." Alfred steps back from Kiku and further into the interior. He dusts off an old TV set with his hand. He's used to saying wild things and he's used to negotiations. He's used to getting anything he wants. He's an adult and he's used to– "...I thought Japanese were really shy about… this kind of thing."
"You Americans are also shy about sex." Kiku laughs.
"Aren't you?!"
That laugh again, so sudden, blinding in the same way an angel's voice is deafening. Devastatingly beautiful. America forces himself to inhale sharply, to remember to breathe again, and it causes multiple tornado warnings in the Midwest.
Alfred drops the manner of a serious grown man and seems to trip back into adolescence as Japan gets closer and closer until he's backing America into a wall. Why he's so nervous, he doesn't know, when he's the one thinking of debauchery while Japan has been very decent up to now.
Despite his shorter stature, Kiku's presence is commanding and confident. Alfred is reminded that Japan is older than him, knows more than him, has seen more than him, saw him as a boy - and the blood in his body flows downwards, far away from his brain.
Is he… Is he gonna do that thing?
What is it called?
"Bathing is not an inherently sexual act," says Kiku, taking on the lecturing tone of a teacher. "…In my country. I think you're suggesting something else, not washing up."
Japan does it but not like in the anime Alfred has watched. Not so dramatic. He puts his hand against the wall, simple and casual, leaning up against America as if he merely wants to ask for directions.
Kiku looms over him, warm and solid, and stares into Alfred's eyes before his gaze drops down to Alfred's mouth.
The fucking…
"Kabedon," Alfred says dumbly. "You did the thing."
Japan looks surprised, then gives a smirk.
"That's not the proper pronunciation. But yes."
Kiku backs off like it was all just a game, just a little joke. Alfred doesn't know what he was intending to do. Just be menacing? Punch him? Kiss him? If he wanted to scare Alfred into a better mood somehow, he's managed to do it.
"I can wash your hair if you'd like," says Kiku, seeming to not care about Alfred's sudden awkwardness. He turns a few paces until his gaze falls on a shelf. "And then let you bathe by yourself. For privacy."
"Uh-huh," Alfred replies carefully, not knowing what to do and not completely believing Japan.
"Or I can leave. Or we could do something normal that Americans like to do instead."
"I can't think of anything normal to do," says Alfred, his voice seeming to come from a distant moon instead of his own mouth. But he's insane right now so that's par for the course. "I think you should show me how Japanese take a bath."
Kiku turns back towards him, eyes trailing downward without his usual subtlety and takes in the tent straining in America's pants.
"Ah."
"If you want to," Alfred adds with a stumbling breath, staring into those dark eyes like shimmering water.
He might be imagining it but Japan's cheeks look touched with pink as he points towards the door leading to the restroom.
"Take a shower first. Then I will. And then… that."
Alfred does so, refusing to touch himself beneath the shower out of a blazing need to know what Japan is going to do. Kiku takes nothing more than a short glance over at him, naked other than for a towel wrapped around the waist, before going in to shower after him.
Alfred has a miniscule amount of familiarity with Japanese bathing habits from anime and from what Japan has told him about it, so he has some idea of what Kiku is doing in the shower and what would be demonstrated in a proper bath, but still, he sits rigid with anticipation on a chair near his laptop and thinks about playing some sexy music or something before shutting the idea down out of embarrassment.
When Japan has finished showering, he waves America over to the bathroom, the mirror fogged up and the tub filled with steaming warm water. His fingers and the gentle way he waves distract Alfred for a second before he's even more distracted by Kiku wearing nothing but a towel himself. Where Alfred is bulky and muscular and wide, Kiku is long and lean and willowy. He can't stop staring, even as he follows him in.
Kiku explains how the shower is for doing the actual cleaning of the body while the bath is for relaxing after a long day before sleep, how it's kept warm, and that it's clean enough for multiple people to use as long as they showered beforehand. Soaps and towels should never touch the bathwater. Families tend to use the same bath and just keep the water warm in between uses. This saves water as well, doesn't it? Since Americas's shower isn't separate from the tub, they both had to shower first before a bath could be drawn - but if they had been separate, then the first who finished could have bathed while the second showered.
Alfred nods through the explanation, Kiku a bit uncertain of how much information he actually wants to learn versus how much America just wants to tease him, before Alfred strips off his towel shamelessly, putting it to the side and lowering himself into the water. He groans at the warmth of it easing his sore muscles.
This is really nice! Maybe he should adopt this custom too. Might help with all the stress from his country's latest presidency…
He looks up and beckons Kiku over, who looks somewhat torn on whether he wants to be part of a Japan and America soup or not.
"Come on in. The water's great!"
"You're so large that you're taking up the whole tub, America-san. I won't fit."
"Yeah, you can! Just sit on top of me. Or I can sit and bend my knees?"
Kiku tries dipping a leg in, before Alfred grabs him by the waist and pulls him into the water, laughing. Japan gives a shout before struggling against him. Alfred tries to adjust their positions but not before receiving some painful pushes and shoves and asking Japan to calm down.
"See? We fit."
Kiku reclines near the side of the tub while Alfred lies beneath him with an arm holding him in place. They're sort of like a soggy ice cream sandwich or something. Alfred holds onto the other man like a teddy bear but Kiku, for whatever reason, doesn't complain.
"Never do that again, America-san."
"Sorry," he says, smiling. "I really gotta thank you though. Japanese baths are super nice. So relaxing. You guys do this every day?"
Japan gives a short nod.
"It's been way too long since I've taken more than a five minute shower."
"You rush too much."
Japan was stiff from the moment he got sucked into the bathub as if by a whirlwind, but as the minutes tick by and the water laps over them in waves of steam, his head relaxes over America's chest.
Alfred watches him close his eyes and exhale deeply in something like a soundless moan of relief. He can't help but smirk while looking down at Japan seeming to want to take a nap, when he had refused a bath with America so profusely before, thinking he would cause a ruckus. He could be good! At least, for a little while.
But dozing hadn't been the reason Alfred had suggested this.
He could still pretend this was just a buddy-buddy thing. That this was nothing out of the ordinary. That they were just bros who did friend stuff. Japanese people showered together sometimes. Families did it, didn't they? It could be a platonic thing if he wanted.
"Japan," he breathes out against the top of that soft, straight mop of hair.
"Hm?"
Japan looks up at him and Alfred doesn't really decide anything, certainly doesn't think about it, and presses his mouth to his. Kiku's lips are moist from the environment, from the coming warm season that's headed for his islands. Alfred licks over his lips picking up the taste of that humidity, the ozone of lightning from summer rains.
"Let me show you an American bath too."
"I certainly hope this isn't how families in your country bathe," Kiku says, licking saliva away from his mouth.
"It isn't," Alfred whispers and then he's kissing him again, deeper and with tongue. He learned this move from watching France.
Kiku curls his tongue around Alfred's with a soft sound, wrapping his arms around America's neck, laying over him chest to chest.
All the ages of agony, of war, of hostility, and now this.
The endless fascination between the two of them.
The admiration for technology and food and customs, the exchange of language, the mingling of culture.
Kiku gives a whimper as Alfred presses both their cocks together in his hand and thrusts against him, sending clear fluid dripping into the water in long, syrupy ropes. Not so clean anymore.
"So– so big," Japan remarks under his breath, eyes widening at how thick and tall America's cock grows when hard. Just as ridiculously big as the rest of him.
"I want to know more about you, Japan," Alfred says mouthing against his cheek, never wanting to stop touching now that he's finally gotten what he wants. "Always want to know more. You're so interesting. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"America-san… But you…"
Was he going to say that America is too up its own ass to admire anyone else? He grins and tightens his grip even more.
Kiku can't do much more than pant and cry out at the way he's being stroked by a nation both bigger and younger than him, too powerful for his own good. Alfred's hand is huge, the veins standing out blue over his knuckles as he pumps them both slowly, scooping up a fat bead of pre-come from his own cockhead with his thumb and rubbing it into the slit of Kiku's dick, as if to push it into him or to mix it with Japan's, possessive.
Kiku watches, his eyes tearing up at the sight, some high sound escaping his lips over it like a cat in heat. Alfred sucks it out of his mouth, wanting to swallow that sound, keep it locked up within himself.
"I like so many things about you. Your art, your language, your people. I wish you were mine."
Alfred knows he's talking nonsense now. When he was young, he wished everything was his. He wished the whole world could be handed to him. Maybe it's because that's what England had wanted and that's what he had learned to want as well.
"Why don't you be my 51st state?"
Kiku's shivers against him, open-mouthed and panting and red-faced, looking like the most tempting snack Alfred's ever seen. Alfred licks up the sweat on Kiku's neck before opening his mouth wide and digging his teeth into the muscle there, causing Japan to cry out.
"Watch your tongue…" Kiku breathes out, shaky. "America will become our 48th prefecture."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Alfred giggles into the side of Kiku's neck.
He touches Kiku's chest, runs his hand over a hardened nipple and gives it a firm rub. His other hand guides the rhythm of both of their cocks, forming a tight, slippery ring they both thrust into.
Alfred strains to hear what Kiku says beneath the lewd, wet sounds of their flesh slapping together but it's frantic and in a different dialect than usual.
"Don't stop talking, Kiku," he whispers fondly, "I could listen to you for hours."
He picks out a few words, "feels good", "please", simple things like that. Japan is too sparing with his words usually but Alfred loves to hear the rising and falling in pitch, how delicately he forms words as he speaks. He's never heard these cries spilling from his lips before but he loves them too.
Every sound from Japan sends an arrow into his chest. His heart swells and he nuzzles their faces together, adoring.
"Ahh-- America-san...!"
Japan's eyes roll back to look up at heaven before his eyes shut in ecstacy, the coherence of his moans deteriorating. Alfred doesn't expect to hear anything specific in return. Japan is reserved in nature and he wouldn't expect anything less.
He knows how the people there admire English enough to make t-shirts with broken English word salad on it, the way they do the opposite in America. He knows they translate American books and movies and shows. There are Japanese who like western music. And of course, they probably like the food.
He knows all of that.
He thinks, pushing his ego aside, that he probably doesn't deserve it. After everything he's done, everything he will do. He's hurt this same nation in his arms now in the past. He's hurt so many before. He'll do it again and again.
Such is the life of a nation.
"I like you," Kiku says, like it's a shameful secret. Like he's drowning. He talks as if he were sobbing and he can't stop. "I like you, I like you," he repeats in his native language, gasping.
"Oh God." Alfred grits his teeth. His cock jumps and twitches and drools. Hearing that from Japan is too much. He never says shit like that.
Kiku whines, sticking that little pink tongue into his mouth and fucking fervently into Alfred's fist, the friction and wetness and heat so good that it's almost overwhelming, almost painful.
"I like you too, Japan," Alfred pants, shaking with the exertion, sweat dripping into his eyes. "Like you too much. Always wanted you, always, since I saw you when I was little–"
Kiku finishes first as he releases a series of increasingly long, desperate cries, milking himself with Alfred's hand and sending his cum spitting out all over America's chest and stomach.
Alfred fucks into his fist hard and fast and seizes up at the sight of Japan's cum still spurting out weakly all over America and his cock, at how they're touching so obscenely, at the sound of Kiku's drawn out, wrecked voice. Alfred's cum shoots out like a spray of bullets, lands on his own chest, on his face, all over his glasses. His vision whites out with the force of a brick falling onto his head.
He lies back panting and Kiku does the same, collapsed over Alfred's shoulder.
Alfred fingers jets of Japan's cum off of his stomach, watches how it sticks between his forefinger and thumb, before sticking it onto his tongue and tasting it. It doesn't smell or taste as strong as his own, but makes him keep it on his tongue and swirl it around like fine wine to savor the flavor. He should bottle it and drink it every day. Use it as mayo on his burger.
He might have heard an "oh my god" come out of Kiku in perfect English, which makes him snicker and sweep up some more cum dripping down his pecs to suck off his own fingers under Japan's intense staring.
They end up doing it again and again until Kiku is so exhausted that he's passed out atop Alfred's chest, uncaring that he's all dirty and messy now. 'Who cares,' thinks Alfred, playing with his soft, dark locks. 'We can just take another bath, right?'
Alfred can sense his people seeing those same posts online, the auto-translated ones. The Americans and Japanese argue. They laugh and smile at each other's words. Small joys in this big world. Precious anywhere you go in it.
He holds Kiku close to him in the bath. He feels no pain for tonight.