Love of the Half Eaten Peach

He looks far too serene as he sips his tea and Canada, hands balled into fists in his lap swears this is all on purpose now. Alright, you want to play this your way? Okay I can do that. He forces himself to be still, to smile politely and demurely even as he raps the challenge out.
“Then... may I tell you a story lao shi?” He makes sure to keep some form of honorific; there’s no harm in flattery after all. He waits and even behind the teacup, China’s face is shrewd and calculating as he turns to watch the fireflies flickering in the darkness outside. He’s already put all the pieces of the puzzle together far faster than the Canada can create them. He’s played this game far too many times and for too many years to be fooled. The young little fly might have markings on his wings like a predator, but this old spider can detect prey. He smiles deciding it might be fun to play along and see what trap he tries to spring.

“And what story would you tell me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. Gotcha! Canada smiles wider now, giving himself a slight bounce of enthusiasm where he kneels thinking that he has the perfect strategy to beat him now.
“I would tell you a great tale, lao shi, one that even you have never in your life heard before.” He knows how bold the statement is, but he has time, and he has spent that time observing in ways that only one who is as invisible as the wind can do. He can sense that China is intrigued even if he has figured it out and he feels his heart flutter, his adrenaline pumping, heart racing with excitement when he hears the soft laughter. Canada’s going to get that seal and he’s going to do it right in front of him without even having to sleep with him. You’ll be so caught up in it, you won’t even know what hits you when you put your hand to the paper. All of you ignore me but I’ve watched Al long enough to know how to get attention when I need it and I’ll have yours hook line and sinker.

And China just nods, his expression excited and open as if he really believes this is nothing more than an evening’s entertainment and Canada has to remind himself to breathe and not give anything away.
“Great! It would be amazing if you really did! I’d give you free dinners for a week in any Chinatown!” He laughs but Canada stands feeling triumph within his grasp seizing on the opening like a starving animal.
“Ah, you don’t have to give me anything but your attention,” He replies humbly. Your undivided attention. Canada licks his lips, forcing himself not to stare. England always told him when he’d fix the full intensity of those violet eyes on him it was unnerving. If anything, China too is equally eager and matches the expression for just that moment. So now we come to it, do we? Alright, let’s see it.
“Sure sure,” he waves a dismissive hand quick to look perfectly harmless again as he takes another sip of tea. As if he were once more Tang Yao granting favors to the court.

This is your last bid, isn’t it? China thinks to himself as Canada takes a deep breath. I look forward to it then. Whatever it is, he can tell that it won’t be so easily brushed aside with feigned obliviousness and as rarely as such thoughts come to him anymore, there’s an odd thrill at even the possibility of allowing himself to be seduced by the not so young nation. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s taken one so fresh and new to bed, who’s young enough to still think that the game hasn’t already been lost yet. He wasn’t entirely honest, however, because while North and South Korea are out they won’t be out for much longer and almost if by magic, the door swings open just as he considers the twins.

Canada almost falters as he sees them enter. Like China, they too refused to acquiesce to the festive yukata instead dressed in traditional hanbok. North Korea walks behind his brother, a mirror of the louder nation with a red durumagi instead of blue, a pair of thick black glasses perched on his nose. Canada hadn’t thought it was a particularly festive occasion but it seems they have a point to prove with the elaborate dress. North Korea is engrossed in a book somehow mirroring his twin’s steps without looking up. They take little notice of him and Canada regroups and refocuses. Alright, you’ve come this far and dammit you’re not gonna lose to Al. Al’s probably got Francis’ dick halfway down his throat already or getting him drunk or who knows what and all I have it a stupid headache. But I can do this even with them in here too Whatever it takes I can do this. He’d trick the seal out of China in front of the entire Asian Development Bank if he had to.

“Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?” China asks still looking at Canada. The two twins look anywhere but at the elder.
“Wǒ bù zhī dào…” Comes from South Korea. China sighs.
“Forget it,” he says in Standard for Canada’s benefit. “Tonight we have a guest anyway.” His eyes are bright. “He’s going to tell us a story we’ve never heard.”
“Ha!” Yong Soo sits on Yao’s right helping himself to his tea. “Story telling was invented in Korea. It’s not happening.” North Korea stands on China’s left looking uncomfortable.
“Yao ge ge...” He whispers softly averting his gaze.
“In standard, please,” China insists at the same time smacking South Korea’s hand sharply with a silver teaspoon. North Korea swallows and shifts from one foot to another.
“Supreme Leader set out that schedule and it’s time for bed right now so... I really should be going.” South Korea snorts and China ignores him. Instead he turns and takes North Korea’s hand.

“It was very considerate of him to do so, Jung Soo,” he states with a careful indulgence, “But your boss left you in my care while we’re here, yes?”
“Yes, Supreme Leader says you’re the only one here I can trust.” South Korea rolled his eyes at that.
“Good. So I’ll decide whether or not we make adjustments to the schedule.”
“But-”
“No buts.” He smiles, but the steel underlying his tone is unmistakable. North Korea nods and takes a seat obediently at China’s left and his brother wonders how such a spineless bookworm is related to him.

“You know that’s all he wanted to talk about all day is that stupid schedule!” South Korea complains taking a noisy sip of tea as he checks his tamagotchi. “Why doesn’t he tell you when to pee while he’s at it?” Missing the sarcasm entirely, North Korea reaches beneath the jeogori and pulls out several sheets of folded paper from where they were held by the tie around his chest.
“I think toilet is at Nine...” he says sifting through the sheets.
“Ohmygod Gimme that!” South Korea snatches the papers and proceeds to shred them viciously while his brother, face ashen grabs for them looking terrified.
“What are you doing?!” Canada can’t help but notice even yelling the voice is soft like his own and he’s wondering as he watches the crazy interplay between them all if he’ll even be able to do this. The scattered thoughts are interrupted when China puts a warning hand up.
“Enough.” They both fall silent.

“We have a story to hear so stop being rude.” He reaches back, pulling a box of sun cakes from seemingly out of nowhere and set it on the table.
“Aren’t these from-”
“Shh!” South Korea shushes his brother. There is no Taiwanese food, only Chinese food -don’t you dare forget it when China’s around- and sometimes his brother has the tact of North Italy on a bender. Unwrapping the cakes, they all watch, and with time to regroup Canada is much more sure of himself.  He straightens up, addressing the entirety of the room.
“There once was a noblewoman as rich as Liu Jin who, like him, believed that all that glittered was gold. One night she dreamt that she had given all her wealth to the gods and was given in turn a stairway to the heavens.”

He spreads his arm in a fantastic arc as if in the dream himself. He has to think quickly, filtering the words, know if he’s not careful they’ll know exactly what the hell he’s talking about. But hell, Canada couldn’t think of a faster story than to adapt the famous rock ballad and so help him he’s going to do this or die trying. “The golden stair stretched out in front of her and she ascended with all the grace of Zhao Ban and smiled brilliantly for she knew that the stars themselves were smiling upon her.” Canada walks slowly around as if mesmerized by a brilliant sight and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he goes on. “And when she reached the top of that great stair all of heaven bright and golden stretched out before her. And she found that she was denied nothing: her every heart’s desire.”

He watches them to make sure they’re watching him. They are. You can do this. You can show them you’re more than Al’s shadow. They underestimate you but you’ll get them. Invisible, he’s always been a chameleon. Canada has always been able to pass for whatever he tried to be. Tonight he’ll seduce them like a perfect innocent child; they won’t even see it coming.
“And even the signs around her read that this was truly the great kingdom of legend and that here she would eternally be granted that which was her deepest heart’s desire.” Canada smiles at the lot of them a rather coy and naughty expression as he continues. “Ah, but even that which is carved in stone can have two meanings...” Oh and they seem just a bit interested now but just wait because he’s given this all of five minutes of thought and he thinks he’s got a damn good plan here...

“For even as she believes everything around her that her eyes behold there’s a songbird who calls to her from the other side of a dazzling stream to come near so that he may better sing her praises.” Canada shakes his head, and begins to slowly take of his socks and ah, now he sees their interest perking up far more. He’s done a sleazy strip club routine a few times at America’s insistence- and once again he tries not to think too hard in that incident with Russia- but this has to be elegant and practiced and ensnare every last one of them so he can pull this off. And not for the first time in his existence he thanks god that his fellow nations don’t just see the body but his geography as well because he might be in young human form but there are so many hundreds of miles of unmolested wilderness and large tracts of land that any nation would be hard pressed to resist. And the youthful appearance only makes him seem that much more fresh and undeveloped and he can see it in their eyes and suddenly he isn’t quite so jealous of America’s much larger population: that slut.   

“Barefoot, she wades through the stream, cautious of her fine silks and hairclips, the cold water lapping around her.” And he looks at them and god he knows it’ll give him away but they won’t be expecting it and he doesn’t want to mess this up. He knows his geography is beautiful and as the second largest landmass it’s vast and damn erotic and his job just isn’t as easy as America’s so screw it. “And yet when she stopped midway in the shallow clear water she looked to the west feeling lacking. And she could feel her spirit cry out for her leaving.” And as he talks he approaches the table and one hand is already on that ridiculous cravat undoing it slowly, his small fingers twining through the silky material as he deftly unties it and drops it onto the ground with a heavy look of those violet eyes as he continues to speak making sure that every last one of them watches as he describes the rings of smoke through the trees that force his protagonist to caress her throat feeling as if she cannot breathe and oh doesn’t it make you wonder, he asks.

And as he says that he lets his fingers trail down his throat and they can all three of them see those long digits, the great lakes joining America ghosting over the taiga, the permafrost and cool hollow of his throat and oh the expanse of open wilderness is alluring, isn’t it?
“And the journey grows harder,” he makes sure to emphasize harder, he doesn’t give a damn how blatantly pornographic that sounds ‘cause when he catches North Korea’s eyes, he can see the isolated nation, so deprived of foreign relations eying him like an oasis in the desert and dammit if only it were he and not China that was the goal this would be- Well why not? He asks himself wildly. God knows what America would love to have from North Korea and it wouldn’t exactly be hard and with the way he’s practically guarded no one’s been able to speak with him much. All three of them, yes! He’s going for it, the coup of the century. “The journey grows harder because she can hear the melody of the piper calling to her to cast off all her worldly entrapments and she just… can’t… resist.”

And right then he lowers his head, glancing at each of them in succession over the rims of Quebec as they watch his fingers unbutton that torn and scuffed shirt, slowly shrugging the fabric off one slender shoulder, the gray vest with it. He’s got North Korea and yet he can see China, stupid China as unreadable as ever from behind the raised teacup and South Korea as well looking curious as if he has in fact heard this story before but just can’t put his finger on it. But you’ve never heard it like this because it’s never been told like this and I know exactly what will distract the lot of you. And he turns, speaking of a new day dawning for her as she stands tall and he lets that shirts slip from both his shoulders and lets them glimpse his smooth unblemished back and the continuation of the Rockies, the Appalachians, the plains that are just as great as America’s in their own right and high populations might appeal to some nations but he can hear it as if it were the lot of them breathing heavily right into his ear because Canada has his scars but he can still keep them safely tucked away and look just as new and fresh as the day of his ascension.

“And she reaches it, that bird and reaches out to grab,” he looks over his shoulder and sees them watch him and he discreetly undoes the buttons of the short knickers where they can’t see, his left hand already raised as he reaching out. “A bustle in the hedgerow startles her as the great bird that her fingertips touch turns to fine grains of sand and flows down her arm.” He bows his head, using an old trick to see behind him through the light glinting off the thick non coated frames and they’re watching still, more intently and he whirls and snaps that hand up with a wide, wild smile, forcing the emotion of the song because it’s been playing in his mind the entire time and that guitar solo is approaching the melody and the tempo that he just loves.

And Canada turns, approaching them all, letting those damn knickers slip from his hips and he’s never been more thankful that America didn’t insist on the stupid underwear too because right now there’s nothing stopping them all from glimpsing Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island as he steps out of the gray garments pooled on the floor.
“There are two paths that we choose, yes?” And he bends over drawing the lines on the table, moving the tray and the tea and letting the parchment meld into the surface as he unrolls it in an old trick that England once taught him. And he draws out the golden lines not letting them form to words, kneeling down so those islands are covered and both Atlantic and Pacific are reflected in his eyes. “But all paths intersect just as all crows under heaven are black.” And he dares that gamble and goes not for China but for that damn suspicious South Korea with a small, soft hand cupping the other’s face as he leans in.

He knows his singing voice is pretty lousy but hey, America did say once that anything sounds hot if you whisper it. Yeah, there’s a story in here somewhere but that song is just going through his head and he used to listen to it in his room on his beanbag chair with the lava lamp going and his special little cookies back in the seventies and oh the fun he and America had in both their houses back then. And Canada knows that if nothing else will get China’s attention, perhaps it will be to not pay him any at all. Canada can already see South Korea’s attention completely fixated on him, hear North Korea whispering to the Supreme Leader to forgive him for taking part in such things and he sings whisper soft, “Your head is humming and it won’t go in case you don’t know…” And he doesn’t kiss him, he just swipes playfully, teasing at the other’s mouth while his right hand quick as a flash puts the words to the parchment. But ah, Canada’s smarter than they think because he’s already crawled onto the low table, his body shielding it, and he can feel the eyes only on him and South Korea in the center besides.

You wonder what my game is, Yao? You and the rest of the world might underestimate me, but I’m never to be taken lightly. Remember the last Winter Olympics? You haven’t seen anything yet.
“Can you hear the wind blow, Yong Soo?” Canada asks playfully and he watches as the other’s brown eyes go wide putting two and two together with an equally breathless whisper of
“I do know that story…” and he doesn’t even care whether China has or not because China can’t see that parchment beneath him as he rolls over, laying on his back across the lacquered surface looking up at the lot of them with one knee drawn up, his hands trailing back down the fine strands falling around South Korea’s face and damn straight they’re watching him and he can feel the faint warmth and glow of the words beneath him and he takes China’s hand so damn easily! Yes! I’ve got you!

And China watches him, sees the faint golden glow surrounding his body even as his own Amber eyes are fixated on the spread of the unmarred and youthful body on the table. He can tell that North and South Korea aren’t looking at anything but the expanse of raw uncharted territory and even the tundra stretching out greater and colder than anything they’ve ever seen is just so alluring to the smaller and older nations. But China knows, he knew from the moment stepped up to the table exactly what it was the little sneak wanted and even as he lets his eyes lock with those brilliant violet ones and lets Canada lead his hand across the smooth skin of his stomach as those lips whisper at him to wind down the road he answers back showing that he knows exactly what this is.
“Our shadows taller than our soul.” Because there have been a lot of things banned in his country over the years but there are some things that transcend censorship even so and China knows now what story he’s telling and what game he’s playing and he leans over, the fall of fine black hair spilling over one shoulder letting that hand be led down down and then-

“How stupid do you think I am?” China’s voice is quiet as a slip of breath, so soft, so dangerous and Canada feels that arm go rigid as steel, feels ice in his veins and can’t help the way his eyes widen in fear and apprehension as he feels the full weight of China’s strength as a nation bearing down on him. He feels as if he can’t breath and really he can’t even move and he can hear South Korea ask what’s going on and the only thing he sees is that ageless beautiful face bent over his own split with a smirk full of dark promise. Oh god… Canada’s stomach knots and dammit he really is trying to move but something about the way China’s eyes lock with him leave him paralyzed and suddenly deaf and he thinks he reads China’s lips ordering the other two because why else would he be rising off the table with two sets of hands lifting him? Oh god… Because China can read it now. China can read every word of the golden lettering imprinted to the table.

Notes:
Lao Shi is a way of saying teacher though literally it means “old teacher”. The wansui that Canada used earlier was used traditionally with Emperors and means “ten thousand years”

Miǎndiàn zài nǎ lǐ?- Where is Myanmar?

Wǒ bù zhī dào…- I don’t know...

durumagi is the festive overcoat worn on certain occasion over the jeogori.

Supreme Leader refers to Kim Jong Il current leader of North Korea

Since human names are used in this and North Korea is the only one featured in the story who doesn’t have one I had to improvise. Jung Soo seemed primarily female at first but then I came across a football player with that name so there you go.

Liu Jin was one of the most corrupt officials in Chinese History and was once listed as one of the fifty wealthiest people in the last 1000 years.