At The End Of All Things [16/?]
Mar. 2nd, 2010 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: At The End Of All Things
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance/Humour(in places)
Pairing/s: (in this chapter) USxUK
Characters: (in this chapter) UK, US, Poland, France, Iceland, Switzerland, Canada.
Rating/Warnings: Overall NC-17. This chapter NC-17. Sex~
Summary: The year is 2438. A little over one hundred years ago, Russia finally cracked and nuclear warheads were sent flying to every corner of the world. No one had time to react. Some countries were wounded, some lost forever. The smaller nations suffered the most. Russia disappeared, never to be heard of again. Finally, the world is beginning to piece itself back together, and there is movement in the irradiated lands of Old Russia. Something is stirring, and only the rag-tag group of remaining nations can discover what it is. Ivan Braginski, or something far worse...
‘I’d been through countless wars. Bombs had decimated my country and I’d shaken it off and carried on, acting like it was nothing, but none of that could have prepared me for the reality of a nuclear strike. It was like being shot in the chest at close range and it only got worse from there. It was months before I could get out of bed and years before the wound finally closed, though it still aches sometimes. I know that some people survived, though I don’t know how they did it, or where they could be living that isn’t so irradiated that it’s killing them even now. I felt them dying, back then, every day I felt it... thousands of deaths. Millions. It hurt. It hurt so much that sometimes I’d scream and cry and Alfred would always come to me, and I’d shout and swear at him until I wore myself out.
The first time I got up onto my own feet after the bombings, I was as wobbly as a baby deer and twice as weak. Alfred took me to see Matthew, and to my surprise, I found him tending a small garden lit with UV lamps and irrigated through a purification system. Everything was just so green and alive, and when he saw us he smiled and came to me and clasped my hands, and he looked so happy, I could almost call it ‘content’, that for a moment I wondered if it had all just been a horrible dream.
I was quickly corrected in that regard.
Matthew kept his garden, and he still has it even now, carefully tended and maintained. I go there, now and then, to remind me that there is still some good left in this world, even if it is sometimes hard to see.’
***
They made good progress, taking shifts driving, not stopping until Feliks called a halt, overcome by the certain feeling that Ivan was somewhere nearby. All of them were tense, knowing that they were moving deeper into Russian territory. The scars of the nuclear fallout were still evident here, even from so long ago, and now and then they would drive through a town or the remains of a city, the buildings little more than shells.
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” Feliks hopped off the truck and shielded his eyes. “There!”
“We’re nowhere near where we thought-” Alfred said, interrupted by Feliks shaking his head and flapping one hand at him. He pointed to the horizon, where three skeleton-like towers rose towards the sky. “That’s just another ruin, Feliks, what makes you think-”
“He’s there, I know it,” the Pole insisted. “Trust me!”
“Will you stop yelling if we do?” Vash asked.
“Totally!”
“Fine! Just... stop talking.”
As night was falling they set up a shelter as best they could, with Arthur taking the first watch despite Alfred’s protests of ‘it’s dark’ and ‘I don’t like sleeping on my own’. Some hours later, Matthew joined him, and the two of them sat perched on the hood of the truck, watching each breath turn to fog in front of them. The Canadian sighed, leaned against the older man, and Arthur paused for barely a moment before putting one arm around him. Matthew hummed softly, and it was a few minutes until Arthur recognised the tune as that of the Canadian’s national anthem. He gave the boy’s shoulders a small squeeze, and softly sang the first couple of lines, hearing Matthew take up the lyrics.
“O Canada,” he sang quietly, seeming only half aware of what he was doing. “Our home, our native land, true patriot love thou dost in us command. We see thee rising fair, dear land, the True North strong and free...” He trailed off, swallowed once, and began to cry, so quietly that Arthur didn’t notice until he looked over and saw the tears on his cheeks.
“Matthew..?”
“Oh, Arthur...” Matthew turned to him, and he pulled the younger man close, rubbing his shoulders in soothing circles, almost relieved when Francis appeared, disturbed by the unmistakeable sound of his former charge in distress. He murmured a soft ‘ah, mon garçon… ne pleure pas’ and drew him into his arms, casting Arthur a grateful look over the top of the Canadian’s blonde hair. Arthur could only smile weakly in response, knowing in his heart that he would have loved nothing more than to do just what Matthew was doing now, and to take one of those moments where he could be someone’s little brother, to be cared for rather than having to be the one that everyone else looked up to. He sat and watched the dim, star-lit horizon while Matthew cried himself to exhaustion against Francis’ chest, and the Frenchman spoke to him in a quiet, heavily accented French dialect that Arthur barely recognised.
“Hey, frérot,” Francis said eventually, looking over to his brother. “You should get some sleep. I will take care of young Mathieu.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am. Sleep well, Arthur.”
“Ta, Francis.”
Arthur ducked into the shelter they had set up using a few poles, the steel barrels and a large piece of tarpaulin-type material stretched over the back of the truck (where Óskar, Vash and Feliks were sleeping, huddled together for warmth), and enough over the ground that the others would have shelter if it decided to rain. Alfred was asleep on the ground, tucked a little way under the truck, curled up in a ball with one hand clasped lightly over his injured shoulder. He stirred as soon as he heard Arthur, and silently held one arm out, a tiny, warm smile on his face as the Englishman crawled over to him and lay down, shuffling to make himself comfortable and shutting his eyes, feeling Alfred curl around him and draw him close.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard, after all. If Ivan was so close, and if Arthur trusted nothing else that Feliks said, he trusted the man’s ability to tell them the Russian’s location. They had stayed far enough away that they’d have ample warning should Ivan decide to attack, but for all they knew he was unaware of their presence. He could even be dead already. Arthur found himself hoping that was the case, but then, there would still be the issue of what had been causing the disturbances. Somewhere in his heart he felt guilty for wishing death on a fellow nation, but at the state Ivan’s mind had to be in by now, it would most likely be a mercy.
He sighed, and Alfred cuddled him, murmuring something just behind his ear that he didn’t quite catch. Shifting, he settled, and rested his hand lightly over the American’s, stroking his thumb over the back of the man’s hand. Alfred seemed to be feeling better lately, and the swelling in the wound on his shoulder had gone down, but he wasn’t completely out of the woods yet and Arthur still wasn’t letting him drive the truck, no matter how much he pouted.
Arthur was half asleep when Alfred’s arms tightened around him, the American’s fingers slipping under his shirt and brushing against his stomach. He smiled, then his eyes widened and he bit his lip as Alfred deftly unbuttoned his pants and moved his hand to carefully push them down. The Englishman stiffened, reaching ‘round to grasp Alfred’s fingers.
‘You can’t..!’ he thought urgently, very keenly aware of the others sleeping nearby and Francis quietly standing guard with Matthew. A kiss was pressed to the back of his head and Alfred worked his hand out of his lover’s hold, and Arthur shut his eyes, swallowing a gasp as his shaft was gripped and slowly rubbed by warm fingers. ‘Damnit...’
He often tried to say ‘no’ to Alfred, but it rarely worked. The boy was persistent and could often work Arthur up to a point where he couldn’t refuse before he would have even thought of doing so. One arm held him close to the American’s chest as his other hand moved and traced his spine before first one, then two fingers were pushed inside him. Arthur curled one hand into the thin blanket that they lay on, taking deep, slow breaths, unable to deny now that he wanted this so badly he could barely stand it. Every moan and whimper had to be caught, stifled before it escaped, every movement unhurried and quiet, though he was so sure that by now everyone must know what they were up to.
‘I don’t care what they think,’ Alfred’s warm breath on his neck seemed to say, and finally his tormenting fingers were moved away and Arthur’s hips were guided back, the Englishman biting his lip so hard that it bled as he was pulled down onto his lover, his entire body throbbing in time with the hard length buried inside him. He tipped his head back and let out a shaky breath, his toes curling, hips shifting to meet Alfred’s deep, short thrusts. Something in him loved the danger of this, the ‘what if we get caught’, and he kept his eyes shut tight as he tried to keep from panting, clasping Alfred’s free hand and pressing it against his chest while his heart pounded.
It was only on the final, firm stroke that the first and only noise escaped, a low, near-guttural groan as he climaxed and felt Alfred do the same. He shuddered, relaxing, the tension easing out of his limbs as Alfred nuzzled the back of his neck.
“Arthur?” He heard Matthew’s voice, and stirred, looking up to find the Canadian peering at him underneath the shelter. “Are you alright?”
“Hn..? Oh, I’m fine...” Arthur could feel Alfred shaking behind him, obviously holding back giggles. “I just... had a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Huh... Okay.” Matthew disappeared, and Alfred let out a quiet snort. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur smiled, and stole a kiss.
“Shush,” he murmured softly, carefully turning over and kissing the American’s nose. “You almost got us caught, Jones.”
“Maybe I wanted to,” Alfred replied quietly, smiling as he rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “I love you, Arthur... I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Arthur told him, pressing a warm kiss to his lips and then settling down, shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
The next morning, Arthur was woken up by a panicked Canadian. Alfred was gone, and Matthew's glasses had been left behind.
----------------------
<| Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Seventeen |>
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance/Humour(in places)
Pairing/s: (in this chapter) USxUK
Characters: (in this chapter) UK, US, Poland, France, Iceland, Switzerland, Canada.
Rating/Warnings: Overall NC-17. This chapter NC-17. Sex~
Summary: The year is 2438. A little over one hundred years ago, Russia finally cracked and nuclear warheads were sent flying to every corner of the world. No one had time to react. Some countries were wounded, some lost forever. The smaller nations suffered the most. Russia disappeared, never to be heard of again. Finally, the world is beginning to piece itself back together, and there is movement in the irradiated lands of Old Russia. Something is stirring, and only the rag-tag group of remaining nations can discover what it is. Ivan Braginski, or something far worse...
~ There is nothing good in war, except its ending. ~
****
‘I’d been through countless wars. Bombs had decimated my country and I’d shaken it off and carried on, acting like it was nothing, but none of that could have prepared me for the reality of a nuclear strike. It was like being shot in the chest at close range and it only got worse from there. It was months before I could get out of bed and years before the wound finally closed, though it still aches sometimes. I know that some people survived, though I don’t know how they did it, or where they could be living that isn’t so irradiated that it’s killing them even now. I felt them dying, back then, every day I felt it... thousands of deaths. Millions. It hurt. It hurt so much that sometimes I’d scream and cry and Alfred would always come to me, and I’d shout and swear at him until I wore myself out.
The first time I got up onto my own feet after the bombings, I was as wobbly as a baby deer and twice as weak. Alfred took me to see Matthew, and to my surprise, I found him tending a small garden lit with UV lamps and irrigated through a purification system. Everything was just so green and alive, and when he saw us he smiled and came to me and clasped my hands, and he looked so happy, I could almost call it ‘content’, that for a moment I wondered if it had all just been a horrible dream.
I was quickly corrected in that regard.
Matthew kept his garden, and he still has it even now, carefully tended and maintained. I go there, now and then, to remind me that there is still some good left in this world, even if it is sometimes hard to see.’
***
They made good progress, taking shifts driving, not stopping until Feliks called a halt, overcome by the certain feeling that Ivan was somewhere nearby. All of them were tense, knowing that they were moving deeper into Russian territory. The scars of the nuclear fallout were still evident here, even from so long ago, and now and then they would drive through a town or the remains of a city, the buildings little more than shells.
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” Feliks hopped off the truck and shielded his eyes. “There!”
“We’re nowhere near where we thought-” Alfred said, interrupted by Feliks shaking his head and flapping one hand at him. He pointed to the horizon, where three skeleton-like towers rose towards the sky. “That’s just another ruin, Feliks, what makes you think-”
“He’s there, I know it,” the Pole insisted. “Trust me!”
“Will you stop yelling if we do?” Vash asked.
“Totally!”
“Fine! Just... stop talking.”
As night was falling they set up a shelter as best they could, with Arthur taking the first watch despite Alfred’s protests of ‘it’s dark’ and ‘I don’t like sleeping on my own’. Some hours later, Matthew joined him, and the two of them sat perched on the hood of the truck, watching each breath turn to fog in front of them. The Canadian sighed, leaned against the older man, and Arthur paused for barely a moment before putting one arm around him. Matthew hummed softly, and it was a few minutes until Arthur recognised the tune as that of the Canadian’s national anthem. He gave the boy’s shoulders a small squeeze, and softly sang the first couple of lines, hearing Matthew take up the lyrics.
“O Canada,” he sang quietly, seeming only half aware of what he was doing. “Our home, our native land, true patriot love thou dost in us command. We see thee rising fair, dear land, the True North strong and free...” He trailed off, swallowed once, and began to cry, so quietly that Arthur didn’t notice until he looked over and saw the tears on his cheeks.
“Matthew..?”
“Oh, Arthur...” Matthew turned to him, and he pulled the younger man close, rubbing his shoulders in soothing circles, almost relieved when Francis appeared, disturbed by the unmistakeable sound of his former charge in distress. He murmured a soft ‘ah, mon garçon… ne pleure pas’ and drew him into his arms, casting Arthur a grateful look over the top of the Canadian’s blonde hair. Arthur could only smile weakly in response, knowing in his heart that he would have loved nothing more than to do just what Matthew was doing now, and to take one of those moments where he could be someone’s little brother, to be cared for rather than having to be the one that everyone else looked up to. He sat and watched the dim, star-lit horizon while Matthew cried himself to exhaustion against Francis’ chest, and the Frenchman spoke to him in a quiet, heavily accented French dialect that Arthur barely recognised.
“Hey, frérot,” Francis said eventually, looking over to his brother. “You should get some sleep. I will take care of young Mathieu.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am. Sleep well, Arthur.”
“Ta, Francis.”
Arthur ducked into the shelter they had set up using a few poles, the steel barrels and a large piece of tarpaulin-type material stretched over the back of the truck (where Óskar, Vash and Feliks were sleeping, huddled together for warmth), and enough over the ground that the others would have shelter if it decided to rain. Alfred was asleep on the ground, tucked a little way under the truck, curled up in a ball with one hand clasped lightly over his injured shoulder. He stirred as soon as he heard Arthur, and silently held one arm out, a tiny, warm smile on his face as the Englishman crawled over to him and lay down, shuffling to make himself comfortable and shutting his eyes, feeling Alfred curl around him and draw him close.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard, after all. If Ivan was so close, and if Arthur trusted nothing else that Feliks said, he trusted the man’s ability to tell them the Russian’s location. They had stayed far enough away that they’d have ample warning should Ivan decide to attack, but for all they knew he was unaware of their presence. He could even be dead already. Arthur found himself hoping that was the case, but then, there would still be the issue of what had been causing the disturbances. Somewhere in his heart he felt guilty for wishing death on a fellow nation, but at the state Ivan’s mind had to be in by now, it would most likely be a mercy.
He sighed, and Alfred cuddled him, murmuring something just behind his ear that he didn’t quite catch. Shifting, he settled, and rested his hand lightly over the American’s, stroking his thumb over the back of the man’s hand. Alfred seemed to be feeling better lately, and the swelling in the wound on his shoulder had gone down, but he wasn’t completely out of the woods yet and Arthur still wasn’t letting him drive the truck, no matter how much he pouted.
Arthur was half asleep when Alfred’s arms tightened around him, the American’s fingers slipping under his shirt and brushing against his stomach. He smiled, then his eyes widened and he bit his lip as Alfred deftly unbuttoned his pants and moved his hand to carefully push them down. The Englishman stiffened, reaching ‘round to grasp Alfred’s fingers.
‘You can’t..!’ he thought urgently, very keenly aware of the others sleeping nearby and Francis quietly standing guard with Matthew. A kiss was pressed to the back of his head and Alfred worked his hand out of his lover’s hold, and Arthur shut his eyes, swallowing a gasp as his shaft was gripped and slowly rubbed by warm fingers. ‘Damnit...’
He often tried to say ‘no’ to Alfred, but it rarely worked. The boy was persistent and could often work Arthur up to a point where he couldn’t refuse before he would have even thought of doing so. One arm held him close to the American’s chest as his other hand moved and traced his spine before first one, then two fingers were pushed inside him. Arthur curled one hand into the thin blanket that they lay on, taking deep, slow breaths, unable to deny now that he wanted this so badly he could barely stand it. Every moan and whimper had to be caught, stifled before it escaped, every movement unhurried and quiet, though he was so sure that by now everyone must know what they were up to.
‘I don’t care what they think,’ Alfred’s warm breath on his neck seemed to say, and finally his tormenting fingers were moved away and Arthur’s hips were guided back, the Englishman biting his lip so hard that it bled as he was pulled down onto his lover, his entire body throbbing in time with the hard length buried inside him. He tipped his head back and let out a shaky breath, his toes curling, hips shifting to meet Alfred’s deep, short thrusts. Something in him loved the danger of this, the ‘what if we get caught’, and he kept his eyes shut tight as he tried to keep from panting, clasping Alfred’s free hand and pressing it against his chest while his heart pounded.
It was only on the final, firm stroke that the first and only noise escaped, a low, near-guttural groan as he climaxed and felt Alfred do the same. He shuddered, relaxing, the tension easing out of his limbs as Alfred nuzzled the back of his neck.
“Arthur?” He heard Matthew’s voice, and stirred, looking up to find the Canadian peering at him underneath the shelter. “Are you alright?”
“Hn..? Oh, I’m fine...” Arthur could feel Alfred shaking behind him, obviously holding back giggles. “I just... had a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Huh... Okay.” Matthew disappeared, and Alfred let out a quiet snort. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur smiled, and stole a kiss.
“Shush,” he murmured softly, carefully turning over and kissing the American’s nose. “You almost got us caught, Jones.”
“Maybe I wanted to,” Alfred replied quietly, smiling as he rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “I love you, Arthur... I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Arthur told him, pressing a warm kiss to his lips and then settling down, shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
The next morning, Arthur was woken up by a panicked Canadian. Alfred was gone, and Matthew's glasses had been left behind.
----------------------
<| Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Seventeen |>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:44 am (UTC)I was reading through, la-de-da~ this is great! Ooh, nice! Loved that~ and then.. Omf. ಠ______ಠ
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:46 am (UTC)..♥
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 01:46 am (UTC)LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.
Glad you enjoyed :|
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:08 am (UTC)No, really...that was sweet, for Alfred to say goodbye to Arthur in such a way. But where the hell's he going to?! Who's going to comfort Arthur now? ;O; *dies*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:24 am (UTC)You love to taunt us with your cliffhangers don't you? XD
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 02:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 04:51 am (UTC)Awww man! English-French family love! daw >///<
YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY IS ALFRED GONE? WHERE'S LIET? YOU! You just LOVE to torture me don't cha? ;-;
SMUT was awesome btw. ;D SMUT <3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 05:01 am (UTC)WHAT'S THIS ABOUT LIET?
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 05:14 am (UTC)Although, I'd still like to know if Liet is still alive >3>
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 05:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 05:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 06:48 am (UTC)You’re such a sadist, making the readers hang like that. XP Is that what you meant by not being able to put UsxUk in each chapter? Kinda hard to put them together when one goes MIA, no? *cries*
But where the heck did, America go? Please tell me he didn't run off to do something bravely idiotic. Poor Arthur.
Update soon, m'kay? I'll be looking forward to the next chapter. Keep up the good work.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 04:38 pm (UTC)I shall update soon~ :3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 07:57 am (UTC)a smut right after that, a disappearance! cliff-hangerrrrrrrrs are ebilll! /dies (it's like suddenly out of nowhere a bucket of ice water drops onto you LOL)
that being said, you just gonna make me stalk over you LJ for the next chapter. here's an anxious reader waiting with bated breath for the next! *A*/
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 04:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 11:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-02 04:39 pm (UTC)I will update soon~ ;D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 04:19 pm (UTC)anw, thanks for giving us at least a love making before leaving, Al. T^T
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 04:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 05:24 pm (UTC)now I know why USUK pairing can't be mentioned in every chapter... *I think*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 05:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 05:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 05:57 pm (UTC)Don't worry. We'll be seeing Alfred again very soon... :3
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-03 05:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 01:07 pm (UTC)Well, now I spared the damned cliffhanger so it's all good x3
AND SEXY TIME, YESS!! -MEGA THUMBS UP-
Tho I have a hard time imagining how they're doing it while lied down *-*Please tell me the other three (who was sleeping) didn't caught them xD(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 03:08 pm (UTC)*o*