Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, we'd be seeing MUCH more of Cuba. And Japan and Sealand would be doing bondage sex scenes together. And France would shit rainbow---- wait. he already does that. also, belarus and south korea would totally be canon. ORZ juuuuust kidding! but naww really. i dont own hetalia.


Warnings: Cuba has a bit of a potty mouth... :c Also, look out for that makeout session near the end... c:


Bring on the Maple Syrup!

Canada couldn't be happier on his birthday.

Well, maybe he could've… but that was beside the point.

It was a calm night outside. There was a huge hockey game going on. His best friend was going to stay up and watch it with him. And, said best friend had brought a ton of ice cream with him.

Yeah, Canada was pretty damn happy… save for the fact the game was about to start and he was doing something else. He really didn't want to miss this game; it was the biggest one of the season!

"Awww man, eh! The game is gonna start in, like…" The Canadian glanced up at the clock, brows creasing and jaw dropping as realization hit. "…In five minutes, eh! Why didn't we just do this earlier, Cuba?!"

"Because," The tanned man grunted in response, trying his best to hurry up and finish. This was harder than it looked… "You were too busy taking me around town…"

Huh. Now that Matt thought about it, they did spend a good deal of time with the blonde making Cuba visit popular tourist attractions... woops. "Do we really have to, eh?"


The Canadian man frowned, nervously looking from the clock to his Cuban buddy. "Can't you hurry up with serving that ice cream, eh?"

Cuba sighed, a hand running through dreadlocks. "What happened to all of those different syrups I bought, Canada?"

"Dunno, eh," Matt muttered, moving so he was standing right next to Cuba. Violet eyes scanned over the bags on the table, as well as tubs of ice cream… nothing resembling bottles of chocolate, butterscotch, or strawberry syrup were visible. That was sort of a downer to Canada… even though he didn't like how much time this was taking up, he really did enjoy his ice cream. Especially if it was the Cuban's treat.

"Ah well," Cuba started, shaking his head. "I guess we can just go without it…?"

"W-wait!" The blonde found himself saying suddenly, an idea coming to mind. It was… actually pretty clever! "I think I know a substitute we can use, eh…!"

Cuba blinked, looking at his Canadian friend. "Oh?"

"I'll be right there, eh," Canada chirped, those mauve eyes lighting up. He flocked towards the cabinets inside his house, opening one and then another, looking quite determined. The dreadlocked man watched all this with interest, wondering just what the other had in mind… "Aha! Here it is!"

"¿Que?" Chocolate eyes tried to see what Matt was holding, but to no avail; the Canadian had it hugged against his chest, bearing a proud smile.

"Here, eh!" He extended his findings, and the Cuban was in pure shock of the other's genius. "Let's use my maple syrup instead!"

A hand was brought up to rub Cuba's stubble thoughtfully, head gradually nodding. "Ah… that just might work…"

The Canadian continued to beam, excited that he had gotten Cuba's approval of something. Said Cuban took the bottle of maple syrup, uncapped it, and drizzled it on both of their servings. Matt presented a spoon to the tanned man; he took it graciously, before letting it plunge into the dessert. It was brought up to his lips, and oh!

"Ahaha!" Cuba grinned, looking quite satisfied. "You're a genius, mi amigo!"

"It was nothing, eh! I sometimes do thi—"The Canadian was interrupted as something invaded his mouth, something tasting of vanilla and maple. Yep, this ice cream combo was delicious. He managed to get the spoon out of his mouth and swallow after, only to realize a moment too late that that was the same spoon Cuba had used…

Matt flushed a pretty pink, which earned a 'Something wrong, Canada?'. The blonde shook his head, and Cuba took both of their bowls out into the living room, where the game was pretty much starting.

"A-ah!" Canada finally snapped back to reality, following hurriedly after the Cuban. "Wait for me, eh!"


Somewhere along the lines of an intense hockey match and many spoonfuls of maple-syrup covered ice cream, the two friends had managed to end up on the same couch, sharing the same blanket, and eating from the same tub of ice cream.

…Odd. But, they weren't complaining.

"Oi, Canada," Cuba started, leaning away from the arm of the couch and closer towards the blonde. Canada raised a brow, his focus half drawn in by the ongoing game.

"What, eh?"

"I've been thinking about it, but you and that American asshole are pretty different."

Now that managed to catch his attention.

Matt turned his head and attention fully towards Cuba, violet eyes a bit wide. "Eh?"

The Cuban suddenly looked a bit nervous, or just had a hard time remembering what he was going to say. "Well, I mean, that dumbass is loud and obnoxious, as opposed to you, amigo – you're real shy and…" Yeah, the dreadlocked man was trailing off, those dark eyes of his seeming to drift to the side, where the television was. "Ah, not so much as shy. Especially when you're watching your hockey games – hot damn, you really do get into them."

They both chuckled at this, Canada letting a smile melt on his lips. He was definitely happy.

"I guess, eh," The blonde responded offhandedly, reaching in towards the ice cream in the middle of the sofa. He was about to scoop up another mouthful, when a strong hand closed over his wrist. Purple eyes looked up, a brow raising curiously. "Cuba, eh, what's wrong?"

That trademark grin was found on the other's face. Oh boy. "Nothing's wrong, hombre… it's just…"

The dreadlocked man was leaning closer, and soon a hand found itself on Matt's cheek. The Canadian found his heart beating a bit faster, unsure of what to make of this situation. A thumb gently came across the corner of the smaller one's mouth, and Canada guessed that Cuba was just being a good friend and wiping away a smidgen of ice cream that had found its way on to the side of his mouth.

The tanned man came in closer…

"Ah, thanks Cuba, eh…" He said, attention drifting back to the television. Oooh, and his favorite team was winning, too! "Look, look, Cuba! The team is in the le—"

Oh, now just why was Canada's guard so nonexistent?

Cuba had completely closed any space there was between them, looming over the Canadian and trapping him in the corner of the couch. Lips touched, but only for a second or two; the dreadlocked man pulled back, still smiling like the devil. It had honestly been awhile since they had made any sort of intimate contact such as this, after that time they were, ah, 'testing' their new relationship, only to have Alfred walk in on them…

Silence, and then:

"You taste like maple, eh," Canada said, eyes not leaving Cuba. He seemed not as surprised as the tanned man would expect of his Canadian friend.

The Cuban slowly blinked, finding himself lowering his body down again. "As do you…"

Arms found themselves wrapping around the tanned man's shoulders, hesitantly at first, fingers slowly weaving through those dreads. One elbow rested on the arm of the sofa near Matt's head, supporting the Cuban, before he reclaimed the other's lips. It wasn't a desperate, needy kiss; it was unexpectedly soft and experimenting, but soon it grew a bit harder, a bit more experienced. They both tasted of maple and vanilla (even though one had a hint of cigar still lingering on his tongue), such a sweet flavor that made them crave more.

"Nhgnh, Cuba…" The blonde moaned into the Caribbean country's mouth. Said dreadlocked man had dared touch his ahoge, grabbing it lightly between his index and thumb, rubbing it. Hips arched into Cuba's own, and any hope of this make out session becoming innocent was soon abandoned.

The Cuban also found himself panting, grinding himself into the other, the fabric between them becoming quite annoying. Fingers continued to twirl that rather suspicious curl, only erupting moans and other erotic noises from the blonde; that only fueled Cuba's own desires. The kiss was broken for a moment or two, both of them catching their breath. All the while the tub of ice cream was perfectly in place, not at all disrupted by the movements of the pair on the couch.

"Say, Canada," the words came out in a ragged breath, chocolate eyes glazed over with hunger. Matt didn't look that composed either, his own mauve eyes in a lusty haze and wet from tears brimming due to God knows what.

The blonde struggled for his voice. "W-what is it, eh?" His heart was racing.

Once again Cuba looked nervous, and that usually meant it was some sort of… personal question. It only piqued Matthew's interest. "Uhm… say. Would you, ah… like…"


The world stopped, and Cuba could've choked a bitch right then and there (which, regrettably, would've been poor Canada).

Alfred seemed to have burst open the door and into the Canadian's house, only to disturb the two nations' privacy.

The next few moments included a horrified American accusing a pissed off Cuban of raping his dear Canadian brother. Meanwhile, an Englishman stood outside the door to Canada's house, rubbing his temple and not looking amused.

Everything was going swimmingly.

Cuba was kicked out of his best friend's house, courtesy of his top rival, only to leave the idiotic hero a lovely threat of, "GODDAMNIT AMERICA, I'M GOING TO FUCKING THROW BRICKS AT YOUR HOUSE, YOU HEAR ME?" The tanned man also threw in a, "I'll come back later, Canada," before disappearing into the shadows of night.

America then decided to give his brother a 'heroic' speech on why he shouldn't date a communist, only to have Matt realize in the middle of it that he had totally missed who had won the hockey game. This resulted into an angry Canadian rant that no one was positive the violet-eyed blonde was capable of, and thus resulted in a depressed Alfred, and an even more annoyed England.

The Cuban was true to his word, though, and did sneak back into Canada's house awhile after England had hauled a sulking America away. The rest of the night was spent on a sofa; a blanket was wrapped over the pair, snuggling and quite cozy, the TV droning on in the background as they dozed off, the taste of maple still fresh in their mouths.


A/N: Okay well now that's over, I think I'm gonna go to sleep... x_x;;

Alternative Title for this story: Cold Stone Ice Cream Doesn't Carry This Flavor (courtesy of Zoe hurdurdur)

okay goodnight all, please read and review~ and may your dreams be filled with mapley-syrup ice cream, cuban and canadian goodness ;w;

Edits: Okay, I went through some of the mistakes, ect. on this story. Also, I want to credit Mai for being such an awesome Canada roleplayer ;___; THANKS TO HER, THIS IS HOW I THINK OF CANADA'S CHARACTER AS. andyes, her canada is adorable beyond words ;v; -runs away-