Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!
A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster!
2 Left Feet, 1 More Dance
The sun shone brightly as airplanes touched down on the baked runways, eager tourists and citizens alike more than ready and willing to explore the prominent Caribbean island.
¡Recepción a Cuba!
The nation himself listened to the welcome greeting play over the airport speakers and crossed his arms, leaning back against the stucco wall as he checked the arrival times on the signboard. Cuba idly scratched his chin and watched a new group of foreigners begin to exit the gate. His relations with Canada had been going really well recently and in celebration the other nation had phoned him up the other day to plan for a visit. Cuba had readily agreed on a meeting sooner rather than later – and amusedly managed to overlook the obvious merriment Canada relayed at the suggestion. It was convenient that it was currently the dead of winter for his northern friend.
Cuba glanced around the arrival gate again, searching for a glimpse of the glasses-wearing country.
'Nothing yet,' The dark-skinned man noted. Well, nothing except for some skinny blond guy who was waving at him.
Cuba's eyes bugged out in rage. "AMERICA! You asshole, how dare you come here!?" The large man bellowed loudly and lunged for the other nation heedless of the commotion in the Havana airport.
"Uwahh MAPLE!!" Canada yelped and dropped all his luggage trying to dodge.
The ceiling fan made an annoying squeaking sound as it turned in the small airport waiting room and Canada sat in an uncomfortable chair, shifting the small bag of ice on his head, nursing the tender bump there.
"Ow, ow… I thought you knew I was coming!" Canada winced and looked at his friend in dismay.
Cuba rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was you..."
Canada rubbed the back of his head too, but in pain. Grumbling aggravated things about America, the northern country gave up with the ice pack and got up from his seat, a forgiving sigh already willing away the bad mood.
"It's okay, I guess." The blond griped, and then offered a smile. "As long as you remember it for the rest of my stay! It's CA-NA-DA!"
"Uhm…yeah." Cuba muttered, his thick eyebrows furrowing in frenzied thought. His rashness against the friendly nation was no good for relations. This could be a diplomatic incident!
"I uh, I should've remembered it in the first place." A bit of red came to the large man's cheeks at the sappiness. "Hey tell you what, you ain't seen too much of my house yet. How about I take you to one of them resorts for the night? To make up for it."
Cuba eyed the way his companion was decked out in that ultra-touristy Hawaiian-style shirt and some comfortable khaki pants. He even had a pair of sunglasses on a string hanging around his neck. Somehow he knew the other nation would probably love to visit a beach resort.
"Wha- really? I mean, I wouldn't want to impose-" Canada blinked rapidly, his expression hemming and hawing between wanting to be polite and flatteringly wanting to accept. "…Are you sure?" Canada finally asked, both eyebrows raised high behind his wispy hair.
Cuba grinned toothily in reply and stuck the end of a cigar between his lips, grabbing the handle on one of Canada's suitcases. "'Course I'm sure. Now let's get goin' – do ya know how LONG I've been waiting at this airport?"
"It couldn't have been as long as the flight!" Canada retorted and gladly followed after him.
The two men grabbed a taxi which puttered its way through the city heading for one of Cuba's more popular resorts. The sun began setting as Cuba had the other nation set up in the best room the hotel had to offer and then they took a short walk across the sand to a restaurant and entertainment pavilion to get some much needed dinner (those airlines only gave you so much these days).
Canada looked around the open-air establishment with appreciation as he took a seat at the fully-stocked bar next to the dark-skinned nation. A live band played on a stage and a huge dance floor covered most of the ground in the centre of the building. A number of tables dotted the areas on either side of the floor where groups of vacationers from all over the world laughed and ate.
'Eating sounds like a GREAT idea!' Canada thought and turned away from the hall, enthusiastically digging into the dish he had ordered. Contrary to popular belief, Cuba's cuisine wasn't usually as spicy as say, Thailand's, but as Canada chewed – his face turning a comically glowing red – it appeared that he had managed to order one of the few dishes that DID come with the heat.
"AHH!" Canada yelled and fanned at his mouth.
"What the hell?" Cuba stared at the other nation, his tall drink he had been about to sip held paused in midair.
Canada's watery eyes spied the glass which was sweating pleasantly with the warm temperature. "W-water!" The blond croaked and grabbed the chilly drink from the other man's hand, quickly throwing his head back and downing the entire thing.
"Hold on! That ain't-" Cuba started, but stopped, just shaking his head as he scratched the back of his neck.
"W-wow!" Canada stared at the empty glass in his hand and smacked his lips, tasting mint, sweetness and a strong kick of… was that rum? The blond held the glass at arms length and stared at his companion. "What is that?"
Cuba pulled out a new cigar from his pocket and leaned on the wooden countertop of the bar, a smirk halfway on his lips. "That there," He gestured to the glass with his cigar. "Is a Mojito. Good for starting parties, not so much diplomatic conferences." He chuckled, thinking about his goal to make sure the other country was treated properly for once.
"Ooh." Canada sounded favourably and briefly toyed with the empty glass then moved his hand to idly tap at the table a few times. "Well… in that case…" Canada smiled widely and pushed his glasses up to rest on the crown of his head. He whirled on his stool to the bartender and raised an arm in triumph. "Two Mojitos, please!"
"WHAT!" Cuba nearly smacked his forehead.
One hour and many tasty fried plantains and glasses of alcohol later, Canada was openly grooving in his seat to the live band and mournfully saying things like 'I wish I had my camera'. Or he was trying to seem contrite (and failing) when saying things such as 'It's too bad Kumajiro decided not to come!'
A sweatdrop rolled down the dreadlocked man's head. 'Looks like he REALLY needed a holiday.'
Cuba watched as one of his citizens, a Cuban woman obviously in charge of entertainment, began making her way around the establishment, urging and cajoling vacationers to get up and dance. The dark-skinned nation snorted slightly and was glad Canada was probably bland enough not to go for that kind of public embarrassment.
"Over here, eh!"
'Oh hell.' Cuba thought.
"Oho! A volunteer! Excelente, mi amigo." The woman eagerly pulled Canada from his seat and Cuba was disturbed to notice the friendly nation had already started bobbing his head to the music.
His citizen turned to him with a cheeky smile. "And you?"
Cuba coughed uncomfortably, a blush rising to his cheeks, and he feigned searching for his lighter. "Nah no. No." He waved them off.
A few other tourists were ushered up and soon a Congo line formed on the dance floor. It broke up soon when the first song ended, and Cuba nearly gave a sigh of relief before he noticed Canada was STILL dancing – if you could call the weird, awkward jerky motions dancing….
Oh god, one of the band members decided to hand the country a pair of brightly painted maracas for accompaniment, and Canada stared at them uncertainly for a moment before he started shaking them and continued his attack on rhythm.
Cuba snorted into his drink and tried not to laugh. Oh geezus, Canada was definitely gonna regret THAT in the morning! The island nation took a long swig of his alcohol and figured the worst had to be over.
The song ended on a good note, and Cuba shook his head slowly, taking a puff from his cigar as Canada made his way back over to the bar wearing a pleased grin.
The blond didn't sit down, preferring to lean against the counter and drum a small beat with his fingertips next to the dark-skinned man (though he did it quietly enough to still be polite). Well, it was obvious enough Canada was having a good time.
"That was great, your people really know how to have fun," The northern country's voice was cheerful and easy to listen to, and Cuba nearly congratulated himself for saving the foreign relations before Canada continued, his tone a bit sly. "…Can't say the same about their nation though – you could've joined me."
Cuba's cheeks reddened slightly at that comment and he frowned. His glance turned into a stare, though, when he noticed the small smile Canada was sending his way.
The live band started up a new song and Cuba was saved from replying as the northern country abruptly tilted his head to look. Cuba watched as the movement caused the other man's glasses to slip down onto his nose from where he had perched them earlier in his hair. The blond wrinkled his nose in displeasure and pushed them back up, before turning to look at Cuba again.
The larger man paused. Had… Had Canada's eyes always been so light and blue?
The wondering went on a bit longer than expected because he forgot to breathe, and the island nation suddenly started hacking stupidly on a puff from his cigar he had been holding too long.
"Cuba-!" Canada waved a hand tipsily to waft the smoke away, but managed to adopt a shrewd and concerned expression anyhow. "You're not allowed to smoke in public buildings anymore!"
Cuba coughed and gave him a deadpan face. "We're in my house, remember?" He protested, but sighed deeply anyway without any spite, and twisted out his last smoke in the nearby ashtray before getting to his feet.
"C'mon, it's gettin' late. Might as well get you back to that hotel." He shoved a hand in one pocket and raised his head to see the blond man had started looking at the drink menu again.
"Hey!" Cuba grumbled. "Canada!" He reached out and shook the other's shoulder.
Canada whirled irritably. "It's CA-NA- !!….Wait." The blond abruptly stopped his ranting and stared at his companion with lifted eyebrows. "You got it right."
Cuba coughed again, though this time in slight embarrassment. He didn't think it'd be that easy to forget anymore. Nobody else had eyes like that.
"Yeah, well. Come on!"
Time really had flown without either country noticing, and sure enough the sun had fully set over the ocean horizon, and the moon hung up in the sky. Canada had replaced his glasses to admire the view of it, once again lamenting his camera forgetfulness.
The popular resort buildings had mimicked the pillar and arch heavy architecture style of the island's buildings, and the terrace was barred off like a grand balcony against the beach. Palm trees lined the walk and the leaves rustling in the slight breeze.
Neither of them was really all that tired though, and so they walked leisurely along the wooden flooring. Well – Cuba was walking leisurely. Canada on the hand had decided on dancing.
Cuba's eye twitched.
Alright he had been wrong about before – it could get worse.
Canada hummed what he could remember of the music from earlier and was doing what looked to be something like a one-man conga line. One-man conga didn't work. The blond waved his arms and bumped Cuba's shoulder slightly. The dark-skinned man rolled his eyes and ignored it, and was unprepared for the enthusiastic wave that whacked him in the back of the head by accident.
"Hey! HEY NOW!" Cuba sputtered and Canada instinctively ducked, hands held protectively above his head.
"This is just embarrassing." Cuba grumbled and grabbed one of the shorter man's flailing hands. "You're doing it wrong!"
Canada sweatdropped heavily in reply. A bit of red came to his cheeks when he noticed the dark-skinned nation was still holding onto his hand. "Ahh.."
Cuba didn't seem to catch on, and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Alright, if you wanna dance so badly, I guess I could teach you…"
"Um, well…" Canada hesitated, his eyebrows turning upward sheepishly behind his glasses. "You don't have to, Cuba."
"NOW you don't wanna dance?" The island nation stared at the other unbelievingly. "Look I ain't letting you bring those moves back to your people without some kind of instruction on a real Cuban dance."
"Eeh…we… we don't have any music-"
Cuba furrowed his brows in concentration and he promptly took the other nation's shoulders, shifting his companion into a proper position and ignoring the slight yelp of surprise Canada let out. If he was going to export something from this impromptu excursion then it wouldn't be something poorly put together!
'Now what to teach… How about- nah. Wait, why the hell not?' Cuba thought randomly.
The Salsa was a complicated partner dance if one had no experience, but not necessarily difficult to learn. It involved a lot of turns and swaying steps that was characteristic of the former Spanish colony. It seemed like Canada didn't have too much experience though, because as Cuba instructed the other on the beginning manoeuvres, the northern nation was clumsy and managed to step all over Cuba's sandaled feet.
'WHAT! He's doin' this on purpose!!' The larger man internally raged, wondering if he was somehow being tricked. The thought didn't stay for long though, when he caught the sheepish and apologetic expression on the other man's face.
Canada was just wearing some comfy loafers… how the hell did it hurt so much?! He supposed the northern nation was stronger than he looked, though he'd rather it didn't get shown this way.
After a while though, the other nation was actually starting to get the hang of it and was soon keeping up with the basic steps.
"Erm, so I move this way?"
"Yeah but– ARGH!"
"Never mind… 1, 2, 3, 4… 1, 2– don't forget your foot!"
Eventually they stopped yelling and began going through the motions with more grace. The inevitable quiet that had descended over the hotel suites' beachfront was contagious, so the rest of the lesson ended up continuing in more hushed tones. The effect was almost drowsy, making the pair start to take their steps more slowly, and it was enough to distract Canada into think about other things than his two left feet.
When Canada had taken the other country up on his offer to see more of his house he'd had no idea he would end up… dancing with him… of all things. Canada had had a lot to drink it was true, but he was still a LONG way off from being completely buzzed, and it was getting difficult to fight off the blush that wanted to tinge his skin every time Cuba would rest his hand briefly on his back or grip his palm more firmly.
Cuba didn't really notice when the blond became silent, continuing to count out the beats under his breath, nodding to himself in satisfaction when the rhythm was successfully kept.
It was strange to be doing something like this with the other nation, though he couldn't say it was entirely unpleasant…
Cuba turned Canada and tugged him for the next set of moves. The northern nation stumbled unexpectedly at the pull and his soft body crashed lightly against Cuba's. The sudden contact sent a jolt through the dreadlock-haired man's stomach and the island nation held completely still when a warm arm came up to hook around his neck.
"Ah, sorry," Canada apologized needlessly, and leaned forward to rest his chin comfortably on Cuba's shoulder, a slight blush on his cheeks. "I guess I'm not very good at this." He mumbled out in a voice that was a bit husky.
Cuba immediately felt his face grow warm.
'W-what.' He thought unsurely.
That one springy hair on the slimmer nation's head was tickling his cheek and Cuba hastily cleared his throat. "It ain't- It's fine, let's try it again."
"Okay." Canada mercifully pulled himself back and Cuba could finally relax, but his stomach still tingled in… in…
'Damn it.' Cuba cursed internally. Who was he fooling? Not himself anymore that was for sure.
When they got to the part where Cuba pulled Canada again, this time the dark-skinned man abandoned all pretence of it being for the dance. He tugged Canada flush against himself, one arm curling loosely around his middle. The blond man let out a surprised sound at the action, but didn't move away right away, and Cuba decided after a moment that he really liked the feel of the other man in his arms…
Canada's free hand went to his shoulder and the blond pushed himself back, blushing furiously.
"T-that wasn't my fault that time!" The bespectacled nation sputtered, unable to look Cuba directly in the eyes. "You forgot the part where I twist and then…"
Canada continued on listing off the steps which were supposed to have happened – ok apparently he had been listening.
"Yeah, yeah, you've picked up the basics." Cuba relented hastily in embarrassment at his actions being misconstrued.
"I guess I have, eh?" Canada laughed weakly under his breath.
His fingers at Cuba's shoulder flexed slightly, and the blond could feel the broad firmness of the body beneath his hand. Canada flushed. The last thing he cared about now was dancing.
Suddenly they both realized they'd been standing very still and very close without doing the salsa for a good long while now.
Cuba felt his face glow as Canada started fidget a bit in his hold. "Yeah, so. The basics ain't bad, but there's more."
"More?" Canada breathed out, completely failing to keep the anticipation out of his voice.
"Yeah…" Cuba took the hand that wasn't already on his shoulder and draped it over his other one, leaving both of his arms free to encircle the other man's sides.
Canada's breath hitched but he held on as Cuba continued speaking in a teasing tone.
Large, warm hands slid down his sides and rested lightly at his waist.
"You've gotta move your hips..."
Cuba gripped Canada's hips gently and swayed them from side to side, before pulling the northern nation closer. A slightly playful smirk appeared on Cuba's mouth and the other country's cheeks instantly grew hot.
Canada's breath sped up and he closed his eyes, tugging Cuba forward by the shoulders to urge him to just- just kiss him already. Cuba leaned forward slowly, and when their lips met the forgettable nation just wound his arms around the other man's neck to keep him there.
Cuba's hands immediately raked up his back and beard stubble scratched roughly against his chin but the northern nation didn't mind at all, letting his fingers run against that strong jaw and up again to hold the dark-skinned man's nape.
Cuba tilted his mouth to deepen the kiss, and just when Canada was beginning to get used to it, he rolled his tongue in a way that would never let Canada play roll-up-the-rim-to-win at Timmies the same way EVER again.
Canada made a sound in the back of his throat and pressed himself tightly against the other man, his hands warm and fumbling at the collar and fabric of Cuba's shirt.
Cuba held Canada firmly and combed one hand carefully through wispy blond hair as he kissed him. The dark-skinned man groaned slightly and couldn't help moving his own hips when Canada tried to hook one of his legs around him.
The blood was rushing to …interesting places, and if he didn't ask this now he probably wouldn't be able to control himself.
The island nation tried to pull his lips away to speak, but Canada seemed to have developed a habit of hugging onto something because Cuba was having a hard time getting the slimmer man to unwind his arms from his neck.
After a few tries Cuba managed to break the kiss and both nations tried to catch their breath. "Hold on." The larger man muttered. "You… you ain't gonna regret this in the morning, will ya…?" He asked lowly, his dark eyes heavily lidded.
"C-Cuba… I don't regret anything about my relations with you." Canada replied just as lowly, moving his head so the tips of their noses were touching in an Eskimo kiss, arms reaching out the hold onto Cuba again.
Well that was all he needed to hear.
Cuba kissed the other nation fully on the mouth and Canada immediately started searching blindly around in his pocket for the keys to his suite.
Bright daylight streamed through a crack in the drapes of the fancy resort room, striking the face of the blond man in the large bed and ushering him into consciousness.
"Unggh…" Canada moaned pitifully into the soft pillow. His head was killing him! What a hangover – it reminded him of the time America had slapped that damnable flag on his forehead. The nation shut his eyes, but the sun still persisted. Moaning softly, the blond gingerly sat up, rubbing at one eye.
The light sheet that had been covering him pooled at his waist, and Canada flushed as he realized he was bare-chested. Even so, it seemed he had managed to acquire a few new accessories anyway. The blond blushed heavily when he noticed a few love bites on his pale chest and stomach.
Canada lifted sheet up and – yup… bare there as well. Love marks too.
Dropping the sheet, Canada found his glasses on the nightstand and slipped them on.
A bucket filled with ice sat next to the bed with a couple small tubs of his favourite type of ice-cream in it. He couldn't help the cough of embarrassment when he realized some were empty. Grabbing one up, Canada lay back down in the bed, wriggling slightly, and rested the tub on his forehead. He sighed in bliss…
A few minutes later, the door handle to the suite rattled and Canada quickly straightened up in bed to see Cuba walk in through shuttered doors from the outside terrace. The other nation's shirt was nonchalantly hanging open, and his hands were casually stuff into his pockets. Canada's blush returned full force when he noticed he had left his own share of love marks on that smooth dark skin.
The island nation stopped abruptly and stood still in the middle of the room when he saw Canada was awake.
"Uh… so." Cuba coughed with a slight blush, and then paused to scratch at the back of his neck in awkwardness. "I guess you'll want to… do diplomatic stuff 'n all…" The other nation trailed off, unsure if Canada really had ended up regretting anything on his vacation.
"Are you kidding?" Canada smiled broadly.
"You still have to teach me the Rumba."
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