[fanfic] Hate = Sexual Tension

[x-erava-x.livejournal.com]

Title: Hate = Sexual Tension
Author: me
Rating: T/PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Germany/Romano, France, England, Spain, implied America/Russia, Italy, Prussia
Warnings: Language
Summary: Germany and Romano have been together for almost half a century, and people only just find out. De-anon from the kink meme.

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"I do wish they'd hurry up and get some already," England groaned.

"Indeed,” agreed France. “America and Russia, a match from Hell, most certainly, but the way they interact, they are practically made for one another."

"Ve, they'd make a good couple!" Veneziano chirped before burying himself in pasta.

Spain blinked, confused. "But they hate each other!"

"Ah, you see, Antoine," France sighed, patting his neighbor’s back sympathetically, "when two people hate each other that much, it is most assuredly disguising love!"

"Or sexual tension," England interjected.

Spain frowned skeptically. “That can’t be right!”

"But it is true!" France insisted. "As the nation of l'amour, I would know! Look at dear England and myself, for instance."

"Shut up, frog!"

"My point is made."

"That's only one case though,” Spain said, shaking his head. “The same rule can't apply to everyone! Take...Romano! He completely despises Germany, but no one would ever say that they are in love!"

France opened his mouth to object, then shut it, frowning. "That is true," he conceded. "A rare exception, I suppose."

North Italy, who had finally managed to swallow his huge mouthful of pasta, piped, "But Romano and Germany are in love!"

France brightened again and turned to Spain to drive the point home. "You see? The rule still...wait, WHAT?!"

The three other European countries stared at Veneziano in shock. He blinked back at them innocently. "Yeah! Romano really liked Germany, and Germany really liked Romano, but neither of them wanted to say, so I helped them! They've been together for a long time now!"

The other nations continued to stare at him. England was first to break the silence. "B-but," he sputtered, "we thought you and Germany were..."

Italy shook his head. "No, Germany and me are friends!"

The three countries absorbed the shock of the new information in silence before, as one, rounding on a sleeping Prussia.

"Did you know of this?!"

Prussia jerked awake and looked around blearily. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

England knocked him on the head in annoyance. "Did you know that Romano and Germany were together?" he snapped.

The former nation rolled his eyes. "What, that? Old news. Took 'em ages too, the idiots.”

 

Italy nodded sagely. “They were very stubborn, ve?”

America picked this moment to walk in. “Hey, I’m not late! Where the hell’s that bastard commie so we can get started?”

France rolled his eyes. “Please, America. We all know you know exactly where Russia is.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

“Romano and Germany are together!” England blurted, clearly still bewildered by the idea.

“Oh, please,” the young superpower scoffed. “Everyone knows that Germany and Veneziano are-”

“We’re just friends!” Italy insisted. “Germany and Romano are in love!”

America shrugged. “Oh. Well, okay. Wait…SERIOUSLY?!”

England nodded eagerly. “See, that what we thought too!”

“B-but,” America sputtered, “but…they hate each other!”

Prussia snorted. “Whatever. People who hate each other that much have got to be covering up sexual tension.”

“Aha!” France exclaimed. “You see, Antoine, Gilbert agrees!”

“I think that hurts your case rather than helping it, yes, comrade?” Russia said as he arrived. “What is everyone so surprised about?”

America spun on him. “Romano and Germany are together!” he sputtered. “Commie,” he added as an afterthought.

Russia ignored the slur, blinking thoughtfully. “But Germany is with little Veneziano, yes?”

Italy pouted. “Why does everyone keep saying that? We’re just friends!”

“And they hate each other, do they not?” the large nation continued. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “Ah, but of course that is only covering up sexual tension.”

“And Russia agrees as well!” France crowed triumphantly. “You must see it now!”

“Well…but all rules must have exceptions, right? I mean, not every rivalry can be-”

“Oy! Are we going to start or what?” Romano had arrived.

“LO~VI~NO~~~~!”

“Get off me, you crazy bastard!”

Spain pouted, clinging his former charge all the more tightly. “But you never said anything! I wanted to give your first love the clichéd best-friend talk in full conquistador style, and I could have used my battle-axe and threatened them with the potro and everything, but I can’t because you never said anything!”

“The hell’re you talking about?”

England dragged Spain off the struggling nation. “When did you and Germany get together?” he asked bluntly.

“Early 50s. Why?”

“You never told us!”

Romano blinked in momentary surprise, then scowled as Germany entered. “Oy! Potato bastard!” he snapped “You said you told them!”

Germany raised an eyebrow at him. “Told them what?” he deadpanned.

“About us, idiot!”

Germany shrugged. “I did.”

Spain glared at him. “You did not! I would remember something like that, and you would cower in fear at the power of the Spanish Armada!”

England snickered. Spain shuddered.

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, you see…”

America, reading the atmosphere correctly for once, paled. “Oh, crap, everyone grab on to something, he’s having a-”

Flashback

“So, Romano and I are a couple now.”

England glanced up from the bar, drunkenly waving a bottle at him. “Mmgah,” he mumbled.

“Did you hear me, France?”

France nodded distractedly from under the table, where he was attempting to unzip England’s pants without much success. “Ah, oui!” he slurred with a high-pitched giggle. “Bonne chance, mon ami!”

“Right. I hope you do not mind, Spain.”

Spain gazed at him with glassy eyes. “Mm? Ah, *hic* si! Congramo*hic*…contabu*hic*…congrats! Have a beer!”

End

“-flashback. Crap, everyone okay?”

Everyone seemed to be alright, other than a few papers having switched binders, and Veneziano having grabbed Germany for protection.

“…and that’s what happened.” Germany finished, prying off the smaller nation.

"Idiot!" Romano screeched. "You can't expect them to remember that! When I said to tell them, I meant when they were sober! And keep your hands off my brother, potato bastard!"

 

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Spain watched this interaction critically. “But, Lovino!” he despaired. “Why are you with him when you hate him so much?”

Romano glared at him. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

“You’ve never acted like a couple!” Spain cried. “You insult him like you always have, and he just responds with that annoying tolerance of his!”

“That’s true,” England agreed. “Nothing about the way you act suggests that you’ve been together for half a century.”

Romano responded by glaring at Germany again. “See? And you thought we were being scandalous!”

Germany sighed. “Yes. I revise my statement now. Our friends are all idiots.”

Loud protests sounded all around the room, but Romano cut them off with a glare. “Geez, you guys don’t remember all those times…”

This time everyone lunged for their paperwork before-

Flashback

The nations looked on in shock as Germany walked in with the Italy brothers late.

“And where were you?” asked America smugly. Germany was late and he wasn’t! He ought to break into heroic song!

“Damn kraut held us back!” grumbled Romano. “Always insists on changing the sheets right away!”

Germany looked strangely uncomfortable but said nothing. The meeting began.

Flashback 2

Everyone raised eyebrows at Germany’s disheveled appearance, but only Japan was brave enough to ask. “Ah, Germany-san, are you alright?”

Germany flushed and said nothing, but the next moment, Romano walked in looking equally sloppy.

“Lovino!” Spain cried, running forward and smoothing the younger nation’s clothes. “Look what you do to yourself, fighting with Germany! That’s very rude and not cute at all, you know!”

Romano squawked loudly in protest, but everyone else ignored them after that.

Flashback 3

America stood to begin the meeting, but paused. “Hey, Veneziano, where’s Germany?”

Veneziano began to answer, but Romano cut him off. “The potato bastard’s getting what he damn well deserves!”

The younger Italy pouted. “Ve, he didn’t deserve to be locked in a closet!”

“He’s the one that spilled the bleach! And he insisted on cleaning it up before we-”

“Germany’s locked in a closet?” Several countries had run out of the room to investigate. Nobody paid attention to the rest of Romano’s ranting.

End

- multiple flashbacks. The room had changed more this time. There were random cups of half-finished steaming brown stuff on the table now. Veneziano and Prussia had disappeared momentarily. America and Russia were also a lot closer together than before, and Russia’s gloves seemed to have vanished, but that was probably just them.

The nations were all staring at the couple in disbelief.

“So, all those times…” Spain began.

“…you two were…” England continued.

“…doing…” America trailed off.

“…making…” Even France seemed unable to continue.

“…having sex, yes?” Russia finished happily.

The two flushed hotly, but Germany folded his arms and managed to reply sternly, “Well, yes.”

“In your hotel room?”

“Yes.”

“During breaks?”

“Yes.”

“In the closet?”

“Well…almost, yes.”

“You tried to clean up a spill?” France exclaimed incredulously.

“Yeah,” Romano bit out. “Because he’s an idiot.”

America groaned. “Oh, god, the mental images.”

Germany glared at him. “Don’t talk as if you’ve never done it,” he snapped. “All the couples among us have done it at one time or another. It’s what couples do.” He ought to know, after all. He’d read the guide book. Not that it had been too helpful. South Italians were just as bad as North Italians in that respect.

England fidgeted. “Well, yes, but it’s still…”

“…very strange to imagine the two of you doing the same,” France continued.

 

“What is so strange about it?”

Spain bit his lip. “Well,” he began awkwardly, “the way you act…it’s hard to tell if you’re actually…in love.”

The other nations fell silent, eager to hear the answer this, and Spain rambled on. “I mean you fight all the time and…you always call him a potato bastard!” He seemed to be almost beseeching Romano. “And…well…you know?”

There was a long silence as everyone awaited a reply.

Surprisingly, Germany was the first to speak. “I love Romano,” he stated plainly, “no matter what he calls me.”

There were a few shocked whispers, but they were quickly silenced as Romano snorted.

“Of course I love him,” he scoffed. “He might be a potato bastard, but he’s my potato bastard.”

The couple’s eyes met for just a moment. Had everyone not been watching them intently, had they looked away for an instant, they would have missed the flash that passed between the two. It was brief and fleeting, but the tenderness and the depth of passion and love it showed was undeniable.

All too soon, it was over. Germany slammed his binder onto the table and barked for the meeting to begin. Everyone scrambled for their seats. Romano and Germany sat down next to Veneziano and Prussia, who had returned from their momentary flashback-induced nonexistence. Everything was back to normal.

“Besides,” Romano said as a last parting comment as America rose to begin, “fighting’s really just a way to blow off some sexual tension.”

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A/N: Jeez, I'm practically on a de-anoning roll here! All my other fills are more recent though...If anyone cares at all about the other stuff I've written, ask, I guess?