Warnings for this chapter: Suggestive situations and sexual themes... basically Denmark's dirty mind.
It started out as a subtle soreness, slowly blossoming into a full-out agony burning a hole in his stomach. Arthur wanted to scream but he could hardly breathe; his head felt light and he was absolutely freezing. Something warm was pressed against his face, sweeping his hair away from his clammy forehead.
And then suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Alfred missing and then suddenly turning up as though nothing had happened, the intense kiss they had shared, then the sound of a gunshot and the searing pain that came with it followed by the strange, confusing last seconds before everything faded into darkness. He replayed the scene over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what had happened.
Alfred had shot him... and then someone who looked just like himself had stepped into view. He had called Alfred something strange, said something about them all being dead soon. But what did it mean? Who was this person who looked exactly like him? More than that, why did Alfred do what he did? Why did he kiss him like that, play with and expose his feelings, then shoot him and betray him seconds later?
A tear slid down Arthur's cheek before he could even think to hold it back. Something warm stopped the water droplet in its tracks, caressing it away with a feather-light touch.
"Oh God, Iggy," A familiar voice whispered, strained with anguish. "Its going to be okay... I don't know if you can hear me, but I promise I've got you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you anymore."
A warm pair of lips pressed against Arthur's forehead, causing his eyelids to snap open. "No!" He shouted, his hands flying up to push away the person leaning over him.
Alfred leaned away quickly to avoid being struck, reaching out and carefully seizing the Englishman's wrists. "Iggy!" He gasped, sounding relieved. "Careful not to move too much, you'll hurt yourself."
"Hurt myself?!" Arthur screeched, his tone incredulous. "Coming from the bloke that bloody SHOT me!" He felt hot, angry tears stinging his eyes. "How could you, Alfred?! Do you honestly hate me that much?! W-was becoming independent not enough for you?! You had to get rid of me too?!"
Alfred stared at him in stunned silence, his blue eyes earnest and sad. "Iggy! That wasn't me! I've been here for days!"
"You can't sell me that shit!" Arthur bit back, furious tears rolling down his cheeks. "I was there, Alfred, I saw you do it!"
"I know it looked like me but you have to believe me, Iggy! I've been here the whole time!" The American insisted. "There's a guy that looks exactly like me... he came to my house and attacked me! Then he brought me here! I swear, whatever he did to you it had nothing to do with me!"
Arthur stared at him in silence for a moment, struggling to register what he had said. If Arthur hadn't seen his own clone appear just before he fainted he would probably call Alfred crazy.
"Just look around, Iggy." The American pleaded. "We're in a cell.. we're locked in. Why would I lock myself in a cell? And if I shot you then why wouldn't I take this time to finish you off?"
Arthur gritted his teeth. Dammit, bloody Yank had a point. "Fine." He let his head fall back against the concrete floor, letting his breath out in a painful rush. "Bloody hell..." He mumbled, his hand going to gingerly touch the blood-stained skin around his wound. "He really got me good, then."
Alfred crawled closer, gently peeling back the makeshift bandage he had created. "This was a close-range shot, huh?" He asked in a low voice. His eyes were dark and uncharacteristically serious, his lips drawn into a deep-set frown. "It tore right through you..."
Arthur said nothing in response, staring at Alfred's expression perplexedly. The blue-eyed Nation looked upset, angry even. "I'll kill him," Alfred whispered suddenly under his breath.
"What?" Arthur blinked, caught off-guard by the venom in his tone.
"I'm going to kill him," Alfred repeated, more loudly and clearly. "I'm going to kill the guy that looks like me, for hurting you and making you think I would ever mean you harm."
"Alfred..." The Brit started to say but was quickly cut off.
"I'm never going to hurt you again, Arthur." The American grabbed his hands, giving them a squeeze. "Not after my revolution... I never want to see you that way again... And I can't accept anyone else hurting you either."
Arthur felt tears prickle his eyes, hope soaring in his chest. Alfred was saying all the right things, and it was actually him this time... But that didn't mean Alfred wanted to kiss him the way the imposter had; as sweet as he was being, the American had never given him any impression that he was gay.
"Alfred," Arthur whispered again, freeing his hand from the young Nation's grasp. He ran his trembling hand up Alfred's muscular arms, swallowing thickly and blinking the moisture out of his eyes. "I-I'm sorry for doubting you..." He touched his neck tentatively, twisting an amber lock of hair between his fingers.
"Its okay... Your hands are cold." Alfred whispered, sliding off his bomber jacket and draping it carefully over his former care-taker.
Arthur closed his eyes, letting out an unsteady breath he didn't know he had been holding. The jacket was warm and smelled like Alfred, like honeysuckle and grass and sunshine- a familiar, comforting scent. It wasn't a second later that Arthur felt something warm and soft pressing sweetly, delicately against his mouth.
Arthur's heart skipped a beat from the initial shock, then everything came sharply into focus. He forgot about the pain and the cold and all there was and all that mattered was Alfred F. Jones; the security of his strong, gentle touch; the smell of his jacket; the tender carress of his lips.
Arthur could have drowned happily for eternity in those few blissful moments, were it not for the sudden furious shouting in... German? What the-
"VERDAMMT, WER SEID IHR?! I'M GONNA KILL YOU FUCKERS. LET ME GO, VERDAMMT!"A familiar, grating voice screamed.
Alfred pulled his lips away with an irritated growl. "Dammit, what is he doing here?"
Mathias was pretty sure he was going to die from the sheer amount of blood gushing from his nostrils. The fact that he hadn't yet was only proof that this had to be a dream... a really, really good dream that he never wanted to wake up from.
It was not half an hour ago that Mathias had been at home, relaxing on the couch with a bottle of beer and plotting his next scheme to get Lukas to hang out with him, when the personalized text tone for said Norwegian went off in his pocket. After a five-minute struggle of attempting to free the phone from his pants (he was sooo not wearing skinny jeans ever again), the Dane opened the message only to receive the biggest shock and near-heart attack of his life. For there, clear as day on the screen of his brand new iPhone5, was a picture of Lukas looking like something out of one of Mathias's naughtier dreams.
The Norwegian's hands were tied together at the wrists and secured to the headboard of his bed. His pale, slender legs were tucked underneath him and he was sitting on his ankles, the hem of one of Lukas's favorite sweaters (the light lavender one Mathias always loved because it brought out the color in his eyes) barely concealing what was obviously not covered by underwear of a pair of boxers. A piece of cloth was tied like a gag around Lukas's mouth, and his cheeks were flushed with color. Below the picture, Lukas had typed a single sentence: "I'm waiting for you, anko~"
It look less than a second for Mathias to literally drop everything he was doing and run like a madman all the way to Lukas's house. He couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream! Mathias had been coming on to Lukas for years but all his fellow Scandinavian had ever done was push him away. Now... now this?! He was curious what could have changed Lukas's mind so suddenly about him, but that could wait; first, he was going to take advantage of the pretty little Norwegian being all tied up~
Mathias was panting by the time he made it to Lukas's doorstep. He raised his arms and gave each pit a sniff, making sure he hadn't perspired at all; there would be no being stinky for his Norge! Satisfied that he smelled fresh as a daisy, he checked reflection in the screen of his phone, adjusting his hair so that every golden lock stood at a perfect point.
It was still early in the afternoon so it was hard to tell, but it didn't look like there were any lights on inside the house. Figuring that since Lukas was tied up inside, he assumed the front door had been unlocked for him (not that it mattered, though- Mathias would break down a wall to get inside after seeing that picture). Fortunately for Lukas, the door opened right up for Mathias, and there would be no breaking-and-entering for the Dane that day.
Mathias shut the door silently behind him, grinning like a fool. He went intermediately for the staircase, his mind playing through a million dirty scenarios. He had never really taken Lukas for the bondage sort of guy, but he certainly wasn't complaining; he would have put on a bunny suit and danced to "Baby" by Justin Beiber if Lukas was in to that sort of thing.
The bedroom door came into view seconds later and Mathias nearly ran to it, throwing the door wide open with his usual idiot smile plastered to his face. "NOOORGE~" He shouted gleefully, "I got your text, you dirty little vixen~!"
Lukas looked up sharply at the sound of his voice, his cheeks boiling red. He started screaming against the gag in his mouth, everything came out a muffled, indiscernible mess.
Mathias laughed in delight, crossing over to the bed and sitting down next to the platinum blonde. He laid a hand on his thigh, higher up than he had ever dared to sneak a grope before; this earned him a furious glare, which he happily ignored. "What was that, Norgie-poo?" He asked, feeling as though his cheeks would break from smiling this wide. "I couldn't hear you."
Lukas gave him a look that would have frightened even Belarus; he lashed out with his leg in an attempt to dislodge the hand, but that only provided an even better opening for the Dane. His hand shot out and dove under the hem of Lukas's sweater, grabbing onto a very private area and giving it a brief stroke, which earned him a shudder.
"Don't be like that, Norge," Mathias sulked. "You're the one who invited me over." He reached up with his free hand and pulled down the gag, freeing the Norwegian's succulent lips.
"Anko-!" Lukas immediately started to say, but was cut off with a deep, invasive kiss.
Mathias licked his lips apart, his tongue entering his mouth and delving deeply. His heart was beating a million miles a minute and he could hardly restrain his joy. This was real, this wasn't a dream; his was kissing Lukas... he was touching Lukas.
And then Lukas bit down on his tongue so hard that it drew blood.
Mathias yelped and pulled back, both hands immediately coming up to clasp over his mouth. Dammit that hurt! Why had Norge done that?! He could handle the whole bondage thing, but he wasn't sure he was comfortable with masochism! He looked over at Lukas for some kind of explanation, but all anger died immediately when he saw the tears clinging to the corners of those lovely lavender eyes, threatening to overflow.
"N-Norge..?" He started to say, anxiety forming knots in his stomach. Dear Odin... Lukas never cried. In all the years Mathias had known him, he had never seen the usually expressionless, emotionless Norwegian cry. He must have screwed up. Badly.
"You're.. s-such an i-idiot..." Lukas whispered, closing his eyes as the first tear ran down his cheek.
Mathias reached out immediately, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "Oh God.. Norge, I-I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I swear I didn't-"
"And now they're going to get you too." Lukas continued in a whisper, as though he had never been interrupted. "You're such an idiot, anko."
The Dane's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "'They'?" He repeated, tilting his head. "Whose 'they', Norge?"
Lukas opened his eyes again, fixing him with a narrowed stare. "Denmark." He said thr0ugh his teeth, his voice low and dangerous. "If I was tied to the bed, who the fuck do you think sent you that picture?"
Mathias's confusion melted into an icy chill running straight down his spine. He saw Lukas's glare shift a fraction of an inch to focus on something behind him, and turned over his shoulder to look.
For a split second the Dane thought there must have been a mirror there he had never noticed before, until his reasoning skills caught up with him. This man, who literally could have been a mirror image of himself, was standing up whilst Mathias was sitting down, and they were each wearing a different set of clothes.
"Wh..who are you?" was the only intelligent sentence Mathias could think to say at the time, standing up slowly. His guard was up, all the bloodthirsty instincts he had kept under wraps after the Viking era had end quickly came raising to the surface, ready for a fight. This man had tied Lukas up and had made him cry, and had lured him here for who knows what reason; he really didn't see any way this could end pretty. His fingers flexed reflexively at his side... damn he wished he hadn't left his axe at home.
The look-alike smiled; it wasn't the same goofy smile Mathias always wore, but something much more unnerving. "My name used to be Mathias Køhler, just like you." He said, taking a black, rectangular device out of his pocket and twirling it between his slender fingers. "Friends call me Vain now."
Mathias frowned, his eyes darting around the room for a fraction of a second, searching for something he could use to defend himself and Norge if need be. The nearest thing in reach was a lamp, but everything else would be useless. "Okay, 'Vain'," He squared his shoulders, looking his doppleganger in his identical set of seafoam-green eyes. "What do you want?"
Vain's smile stretched wider. "That's simple," he purred, taking a step closer. "You."
Lukas hissed and yanked on his restaints, throwing his body forward threateningly. "Don't you dare touch him!" He shouted with surprising venom.
They both ignored him. "What do you mean, me?" Mathias raised an eyebrow, his hand just itching to grab for the lamp and club the imposter over the head with it. There would be time for that later, though, and right now he should focus on at least getting whatever information he could out of the guy.
"Its exactly as I said, simpleton." Vain rolled his eyes. "Are you really as much of an idiot as everyone says? I mean, I know this anime is all about playing into stereotypes but come on!.. oops, fourth wall broken. Anyway, back to the point," He cleared his throat, taking another step forward. "I want you to be a good boy and cooperate with me here. You and your pretty little boyfriend are going to follow me to the place where me and all of my friends have been locking up all of your friends, and you're going to sit there patiently and wait while we kill you... slowly."
"Vain," a slim, short figure appeared in the doorway, a man who looked just like Lukas crossing his arms over his chest. "Shut up. You talk too much."
Vain shrugged his shoulders, still grinning. "I'm not telling them anything they won't find out for themselves in time." He said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from the back pocket of his jeans and twirling them around a fingertip. He looked straight at Mathias again, grinning. "So what do you say, handsome? Ya comin'?"
Mathias pursed his lips, thinking. "Just one question."
"Sure, name it."
"Are you the one who undressed Norge and tied him to the bed?"
Vain blinked at him, then threw back his head and laughed wildly. "WOW. That's your question?! Jealous, are we?" He smirked, licking his lips in a taunting way. "Of course it was me. It was surprisingly easy, too! All I had to do was waltz in here pretending to be you, be more suave and romantic than you could ever be. Little slut fell for it completely, was totally willing to let me down what I wanted until I started to get rough."
Mathias's blood was boiling with fury. This man... this bastard had touched Lukas; this bastard had taken advantage of his Norge! He had touched him and done terrible things to him, masquerading as Mathias the entire time!
"I tied him up and started to take off his clothes, but once I saw his pathetic little package I didn't even want to take his cherry anymo-!"
Within a split second Mathias had the lamp in his hand and Vain pinned to the floor; his raised an arm over his head, ready t0 bring it mercilessly down on his skull. "Bastard! I'll kill you for treating Norge this way!" He screamed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The imposter Lukas's voice chimed in pleasantly.
Mathias turned his head sharply to see that the fake Lukas had crossed the room and now knelt on the bed next to the real one, the barrel of a gun pressed against the side of his head.
"Now," he continued, smiling sweetly at Mathias. "Why don't you put the lamp down and do as we say, and no one has to get hurt?"
Tired... 6:37am... I've been writing all night.
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You should go follow me.
My account is the same as it is on here: Hyper4Hetalia. That's the name of my blog, too.
Sorry for slow update schedules, you guys. I promise I'll try to update more often.
Also, please review. I love this story, but its like my least reviewed one even though it has the most chapters. It makes me really sad, to be honest.
On another note, no one has guessed who the imposter-nations are. There have been some close guesses, though.
Now: Review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review... -snore- Immasleepnow.