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Faux Paw	By : Florville Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 3287 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Monkey's Paw is property of WW Jacobs, and I only reference it in passing. Hetalia does not belong to me, and I do not make any money off the writing of this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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This chapter goes out to my friend Kristi for being an awesome friend, and for introducing me to Murdoch Mysteries, which I blame for the way I write Arthur's speech. He now speaks with Inspector Brackenreid's accent, which I believe is a Yorkshire accent if I'm not mistaken. Oh, the things that go on inside my strange little head...

4

The night was warm as England walked across the grounds to the stable, clad in an old white muscle shirt and a loose pair of sleep pants. Tucked under one arm was a light blanket that could be easily washed if need be, a pair of his most beat-up slippers adorning his feet. Flipping his flashlight on as he came around to the back door of the stable, Arthur opened it as quietly as he could manage, since he didn’t want to give the two regular occupants the impression that he’d come out to feed them.

Creeping inside and closing the door quietly behind him, England padded up to the door of Matthew’s stall, peering in and turning off the flashlight when he saw that the moonlight coming in through the window of the stall was sufficient to see by. Seeing that Canada was standing in the middle of the stall, he pushed the door open (no need to close the latch on a sentient being, after all).

“Oi, you still awake?”

Matthew’s startled reaction was immediate evidence that he hadn’t been; he jumped and stumbled back into the far wall, looking around in a panic for a few seconds before gradually calming. Maple, you scared me half to death!

England chuckled, closing the stall door and setting the flashlight down in the corner. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think you could master the equine ability to sleep standing up after only being in that form for a few hours.”

It…came as a surprise to me as well, the unicorn confessed, yawning widely and then giving Arthur a curious look. Are you sure you want me to use that? Won’t I get it dirty?

“It’s not for you, lad,” England muttered, nodding to a spot where the clean sawdust was piled a little higher than the rest. “Lie down.”

Knowing better than to question England when it seemed as if he was doing something kind, Matthew moved to lie down by bending his back legs as he would in his human form, making a puzzled noise before recalling how it was done by normal horses. It felt odd, having so much weight; his front legs almost buckled halfway into lowering himself, and he flopped rather gracelessly onto his side. He snorted when he heard Arthur chuckling, his ears flicking back peevishly. Yeah, yeah, very funny…

“Sorry,” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “It just struck me as being rather cute…you remind me of a young colt who hasn’t learned how to use his legs properly yet.”

Well…I kinda haven’t, you know, Matthew reminded the Brit as he manoeuvred himself onto his belly with his legs curled under him while England shook the blanket out and laid it flat on the sawdust beside him. Canada watched curiously as Arthur kicked off his slippers and walked onto the blanket, ears pricking straight up in surprise when the Brit sat down and leaned up against his side. England hadn’t curled up with him since he was a small boy! Will…will you be comfortable like that, Sir? Will you be warm enough?

“With the amount of body heat you give off?” Arthur replied with a laugh, resting one arm on Canada’s middle back and stretching his legs out so he was resting on his hip facing Canada’s head. “And it’s a warm night; I’ll probably be sweating by the time morning rolls around.”

Matthew nodded, smiling a little as he closed his eyes. Thank you.

Blushing a little, Arthur just grunted. He knew it would be pointless to try one of his usual “I’m not doing it for you I’m doing it for me” tirades…they never did work on Matthew, anyway. “Good night, lad.”

*

Arthur woke gradually in the heat of the summer morning, stretching and grimacing a little when his body protested the movement. He closed his eyes again, losing himself in the sensations of Canada’s proximity. Unlike Percy, Matthew didn’t fidget when he slept, so Arthur had actually slept rather well. There was something soothing about the incredible warmth thrown off by his body, underneath that silken coat.

Getting up to relieve himself, Arthur returned afterward and curled up next to Matthew once more, lifting a hand to smooth it over one powerful shoulder as he rested his cheek against his upper back, feeling the muscles ripple slightly as Canada stirred, shifting a little and lifting his head.

Good morning, Sir, Matthew greeted the Englishman, mesmerized by the relaxed expression on Arthur’s face. For now, it seemed that England was happy, as if he were lost in some pleasant daydream as he stroked Canada’s hide. And Arthur’s brief moments of happiness, so seldom seen by Matthew, were something he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

Of course, the longer he watched, the more Matthew noticed various things. Things like the areas on Arthur’s muscle shirt that had been dampened through with sweat, the scent of which made his nostrils flare. He hadn’t noticed before, how much stronger his sense of smell was in this form...

There was a thin sheen of moisture glistening in the hollow of Arthur’s collarbone, and before he realised it, Canada was leaning in to sample some.

Thinking it was a good morning nuzzle, Arthur had leaned in at first; however, he jerked away with a startled yelp when he felt the warm slide of Canada’s tongue over his skin. “Oi, what do you think you’re doing?!”

The unicorn simply grunted and leaned in further, his tongue sliding between the fingers of the hand Arthur had brought up to cover the hollow of his throat, and a moment later his long tongue slid over the sensitive flesh under his arm. Your sweat tastes wonderful, for some reason…

England squeaked, snapping his arms down so that his armpits were firmly closed as he held his hands over his chest in a manner that was almost comical. “I don’t care what it tastes like! You shouldn’t be doing things like that!”

Why? Matthew queried, tilting his head slightly to regard Arthur in a very equine expression of confusion.

Arthur gaped, his cheeks flooding with colour. “B-because I’m a man, and you’re…well, look at yourself! It’s improper!”

Canada blinked, inspecting himself and then regarding England with the same puzzled expression. I…I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Sir.

England rolled his eyes heavenward and then glared at the young nation who seemed so blissfully oblivious to what any non-platonic interaction between them would be labeled as. “I realise that as a nation, Canada, you’re extremely laid back. However, even where you come from, bestiality is wrong.”

Matthew recoiled, seeming shocked at this, ears pinning back in embarrassment as he averted his gaze. After a moment, however, he looked back at Arthur, seemingly hurt. But…but I’m not an animal, Sir…

Arthur ground his teeth in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You ‘ave four legs and a tail, Matthew.”

There was a long silence, and Arthur lowered his hand from where it had been blocking his view, feeling like a complete heel when he saw the way Canada was looking at him. Damn it all, he hated that kicked puppy look when it came from Matthew! At least Alfred’s looked kind of stupid, so he wasn’t as susceptible to it, but when it came from Canada he was essentially powerless to do anything but acquiesce.

“Matthew, please…you’re being irrational,” he tried, turning so that his back was leaning against the unicorn’s side and he could only really catch a hint of the hurt expression if he checked his peripheral (which he tried to avoid in this instance).

If we were both in human form right now, and I made an advance, Matthew ventured, his expression slightly pained and yet remarkably serious as he watched England carefully, would you push me away?

England tensed, turning his head to meet that scrutinizing gaze, feeling colour flood his cheeks and the back of his neck at the very thought. “I…r-really, Matthew, that’s not a fair question,” he mumbled, trying to turn Canada from this uncomfortable line of inquiry.

England, I wanted you so desperately that I made a wish on a freaky shrivelled animal paw just to try and be with you, Canada communicated in that same serious tone, his gaze unrelenting. I think now would be a good time to tell me if there’s no chance of it ever happening. Matthew seemed to falter for a moment, his ears tilting back as he averted his gaze, looking at England’s feet rather than watching for the havoc his confession might wreak. I love you, England…since just before Confederation, I’ve been in love with you. It’s just…I…I’ve never…I mean, I wanted to tell you in the forties, but you were so sick from the bombings, I felt it wouldn’t be right…and after that, it…I’ve never…I…

“Canada,” Arthur interrupted the psychic rambling, sighing softly and reaching out to stroke the unicorn’s nose. “Did you honestly believe I hadn’t noticed?”

The words made Matthew’s heart drop into his chest, and he pulled away from the gentle petting. Sir, you notice ME so seldomly, why would I ever think you would notice my feelings toward you?

England’s brows furrowed and he frowned a little. He did deserve that, he supposed… “I told you, laddie…you wear your heart on your sleeve far too much,” he sighed, grabbing the unicorn’s jaw just behind his chin and turning his head so he could look him in the eye. “Did it never occur to you that, my nature being what it is, I never reciprocated for fear of breakin’ it?”

Canada regarded him uncertainly for a long time. What was Arthur trying to say? Was this refusal or not? The only way you could break my heart would be if you turned me away entirely, Sir. A life without your presence is not desirable to me at all, whether you love me or not. He sighed, tugging his chin from Arthur’s grip and looking at his own shoulder, where the warm sunlight of early morning that was streaming through the window made his coat gleam. I’m far stronger than you think I am, England. If you are unable to accept the love that I am offering you, it will not break me, so long as you don’t push me away.

“How can I do anything but accept it,” Arthur groaned softly, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead, “being the selfish blighter that I am?” After sitting like that for a long moment, he lowered his hands and cast a worried glance in Matthew’s direction, his expression showing his inner turmoil quite clearly. “I’m only going to hurt you, Canada. And I hate myself already for it…”

Stunned, Matthew replayed what England had just said in his mind, watching his face carefully for any sign of jest. When he saw none, and realised that Arthur had spoken quite genuinely, the most overwhelming sense of wonder filled his heart. If he’d had arms, he would have thrown them around the Englishman and wept with joy. As it was, he craned his neck and brushed his velvety muzzle against Arthur’s temple, smiling adoringly. If you hurt me, I’ll forgive you, England. Even if you do it intentionally…which…well, I hope you won’t…

England snorted, reaching up and petting Canada’s face, scratching under his chin and between his jowls again, chuckling at the typical equine response of Matthew leaning in for more. “Hurt you deliberately?” Arthur scoffed. “Honestly, I think I’d ‘ave an easier time stepping on a kitten. You’ve no idea what it does to me to see you hurt.”

Those words warmed Matthew’s heart even more, and he sighed happily. Thank you, England…

“Yes, well…” Arthur grunted, ceasing his chin-scratching and struggling to his feet, arching his back and groaning as the muscles screamed in protest. Or at least, they did until he heard Matthew get to his feet and felt the gentle prod of the tip of his horn against his lower back. “Oi! You can’t just magic away every ache and pain in this old body of mine, you know!”

The unicorn smiled, looking rather pleased with himself. Better?

“Aye,” Arthur grumbled, wincing at the shrill whinny from one of the other stalls, putting his hand on Canada’s nose and pushing his head away as he climbed into his slippers. “I ‘ave to go feed that lot or they’ll drive me spare. Was the hay I left in here last night all right?”

It was good, but I liked the oats a lot better. Canada replied, his ears rotating individually back and forth. They made me feel antsy, though.

“Oats’ll do that, yes,” Arthur replied with a nod as he stepped out of Canada’s stall. “I’ll give you a bigger helping for the morning and you can go burn it off in the pasture. Let me feed the non-sentient beings first, though.”

Canada waited patiently as he heard the sound of hay being forked into stalls and oats being poured into buckets that were immediately burrowed into by the two resident equines. He tried to fold Arthur’s blanket as best he could while he waited, but since he could only use his teeth to do so, he couldn’t do a very good job.

“All right, here you go, lad,” Arthur grunted as he shovelled a small pile of hay into Canada’s stall, wandering back to the end of the aisle to grab a helping of oats for him.

Matthew munched away contentedly as he waited for England to return, moving back so he could bring the bucket of oats into the stall and hang it on the hook.

He’d been about to dip his head and grab another mouthful of hay as Arthur situated the bucket, but then the sunlight gleamed off of the sheen of sweat between England’s shoulder blades, just above the low neck line of his muscle shirt, and Matthew was a victim to his urges once again.

It was fortunate that the handle of the bucket had just slipped securely into the hook on the wall, because England nearly jumped a foot in the air when Matthew’s long tongue slid over his skin. “Bloody ‘ell!!” he yelped, banging the bucket against the wall as he tried to pull away from the sensation, turning to face Canada and glaring indignantly as he pressed his back into the corner. “I thought I told you to stop that!” he barked, his heart still fluttering rapidly in his chest.

But it tastes so good! Canada whined, wielding his puppy dog eyes again. I want more…

“Too chuffin’ bad!” Arthur growled, reaching up and wiping at his nape with a hand he didn’t realise was shaking slightly. “I’ll get you a block if you need the salt that badly!”

Realising that England had placed himself in a position that was quite advantageous, Matthew shook his head and stepped forward, effectively blocking Arthur into the corner he’d chosen to occupy. It’s not just the salt, he explained, trying his best to sound seductive, leaning in and licking the sweat from England’s temple. I like the way you taste…

“Canada, please,” England groaned, glancing at the stall window and then looking at Matthew in exasperation. “It’s not just a matter of…I mean, what if someone saw us? How would I explain what I’m doing with you?”

Canada smirked at that. You were trying to find a quiet place to masturbate? Or did you forget that you’re the only one who can see me now?

England blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he averted his gaze. He had forgotten that… “That’s not the point, Matthew,” he mumbled, rubbing his temple where Canada had licked it.

Sir, I realise that you make a regular habit of denying yourself happiness of any kind, Matthew pressed, gazing at him seriously, although there was an uncanny sort of understanding showing in his blue eyes. You deny yourself enjoyment of the simplest things, you deny yourself pleasure…you even deny yourself companionship. I’ve never understood why.

“Because I don’t bloody well deserve it, that’s why!” Arthur barked, his fingers digging into his arms where they were crossed over his chest. He refused to meet Canada’s eyes, assuming that they held something he’d always hated: pity.

Every living creature deserves love, England, Canada said sternly, stepping forward and trying to put himself in Arthur’s field of vision. Every creature, every person, every nation…we are all deserving of love, companionship and kindness.

“Why, Canada?” Arthur queried wearily, turning moist emerald eyes to meet Matthew’s sapphire ones. “Because you say so? Or is it written somewhere? Because I haven’t gotten any memos lately to the effect that I deserve any consideration or kindness,” he stated in a voice that was gruff with restrained emotion.

I’ll write you some when I’m able, Sir, Matthew replied with a gentle smile, although he promptly grew serious again, gazing out the stall window for a moment before looking back to Arthur again. England…even for nations, this life is a short and unreliable existence. We’re faced with so much pain and strife on a daily basis; there’s no need for us to inflict it upon ourselves. How can you discard a certain chance at happiness, when neither you nor I know what tomorrow or the next day might bring?

England could feel his chest tightening; he hated the way Canada always seemed to see right through to the heart of him, tearing down his carefully constructed defenses and touching him in the most vulnerable parts of his being. “Matthew,” he rasped, grinding his teeth and wiping the back of his wrist across his eyes. “Damn you, but you always asked the hardest questions, even as a boy…”

Matthew was quiet, watching Arthur worriedly for a moment before leaning his neck out to nuzzle England’s shoulder. I…wish that I could hold you…

The Brit stepped out of the corner, wrapping his arms around Canada’s neck and burying his face into his mane, just behind Matthew’s left ear. “Neither of you lads can do a bleedin’ thing for yourselves,” England murmured, chuckling softly. “Honestly…what would you do without me?”

Canada smiled fondly, his eyes drifting closed. We would have to rely on ourselves, and possibly Francis, which is a frightening thought.

Arthur snorted. “Aye, that it is. I guess that means I’ll be stickin’ around for the duration then, eh?”

I should like it very much if you did, Sir, Matthew replied, using his head to pull England a little closer.

Sighing and moving forward so his chest was pressed up against Canada’s, England rested his cheek against the side of his neck and smoothed a hand over his shoulder. “As much as I enjoy your politeness, lad, I do believe if we’re supposed to be lovers, you should start calling me Arthur.”
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Faux Paw