APH: Pick-Up Chicks
Title: Pick-Up Chicks
Characters/Pairings: Australia/Brazil/Argentina, cameo by England and Portugal
Rating: PG-13 (R-ish at the end)
Warning: Polyamorous relationship of fail, issues with jealousy
Summary: (Prompt: Girls) OT3-fic. Brazil and Australia being themselves at a nightclub. Hijinks ensue. The wife disapproves. :|a
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Disclaimer and obligatory differences in height:
Brazil (Luciano) belongs to hina_teh_shitz 171cm
Argentina (Martin) belongs to rowein 178cm
Australia (Jacob) belongs to Himaruya, but his name/height belongs to candesceres (Me) 186cm
Being from Aussie means a lot of how I see him affects his personality, and you can read more about him here. XD
Australia had insisted on it. Which is why instead of spending a quiet night indoors watching the football they were out here, in a noisy, smoky, colourful nightclub. To 'pick up chicks' Jacob had put it, towering over the crowd and waving cheerfully at any girl that happened to look his way. Luciano had joined him for the sport of it, playing the part of interpreter to the Australian, who didn't know a lick of Portuguese. Or at least he pretended not to. Apparently the 'chicks', as he told Martin, always digged a hot foreigner. He dug him in the ribs playfully as he said this. Argentina thought he'd been watching too many of Alfred's movies, and said so. Scathingly.
Brazil told him to lighten up. He told them to fuck off. They looked at each other in the unnerving way they always did when they happened to be on the same wavelength.
"First person to get twenty phone numbers in the next hour shouts the next round of drinks," Australia said wickedly. Brazil grinned.
"Oh yeah? I can do that. I can totally do that. You're on." They borrowed a pen from the barkeep, wrote their names on paper coasters and shoved them at Argentina, who really, had only come along to enjoy a few drinks in peace, so he left them to it, rolling his eyes when they smirked at each other, bumped fists and moved off separately into the crowd. At least it was better than having them crack gay jokes over his magaritas. Let someone else deal with their idiocy for a change.
A pretty Brazilian girl with dark ringlets sauntered up to him and asked him for a dance. He politely declined. She left. Australia turned up five minutes later, looking decidedly smug. "Read 'em and weep," he said. He dropped a scrap of paper and what looked like an old receipt scribbled with digits in Martin's empty glass. Brazil returned with four, including something that looked like an expensive business card that he brought to his lips, kissed and tucked into his pocket, looking pleased with himself.
Jacob was on him in half a second, arm around his waist as he tried to shove his hand down his pants, demanding he share. Luciano laughed and pushed him away. "Later," he promised. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting two for one." Australia thought this over.
"We could always pose as a gay couple looking for a threesome," he offered. They decided they'd try that tactic later and disappeared again without so much as a backward glance at Argentina. He scoffed and ordered another glass and told himself they were someone else's problem tonight.
The hour rolled by. The girls had kept coming and Martin was about an inch away from snapping at them to fuck off and find someone else to molest. Though this could have been attributed to the glasses that were accumulating on his side of the table and making his head heavy and his mood sour. Some of them gave him their numbers anyway. Brazil and Australia would snatch them from his hands whenever they returned and fight for sovereignty over them like they were territories rather than pen on paper. When they weren't proudly displaying their own catches by dumping them all over Argentina and making him look like a perverted hoarder when they left again.
They tallied their scores on the paper coasters next to their names. On the nineteenth stroke Luciano came back with a lady's lace handkerchief, number written with an eye pencil and signed with a lipstick print. He had momentarily paused to catch his breath, throwing himself down next to Martin and putting his arm around his shoulder as he rubbed the telltale red makeup off his cheek with a laugh. Argentina considered poking him in the eye with one of the cheesy paper umbrellas he had gathered over the night, but no, there were numbers written on those too. He kept it in mind. It would certainly be ironic.
"Are you done now?" he asked tightly, running his finger over the rim of his glass and feigning nonchalance. They were not his problem, he wasn't their fucking babysitter, they could fool around as much as they liked for god's sake. Why was he even getting upset over this? Oh, right. The alcohol. He rubbed at his face. Luciano didn't even notice, the moron.
"Oh I'm done," he said happily and waved the handkerchief in Martin's face. "See this? This is what they give to winners." Argentina slapped it away; the cloying scent of perfume coming from the cloth was making his head hurt. Brazil made a face. "Man you don't have to look so sore, you were the one who decided to bum around here in the corner the whole night..."
Argentina slammed his hand down on the tabletop and whirled to glare at him, albeit a little unsteadily. This was not his problem. "And did you ever think," he growled, "for one fucking minute that was because - "
"Who's the man?" Australia said loudly over the music, coming up behind them and nearly making him jump out of his skin. He put his arms over both their shoulders and squeezed tight, grinning like an idiot. "Come on, be honest. Am I hot, or am I hot?"
"No comment," Martin said flatly once he had got over the initial shock. He looked away. Jacob raised his eyebrows and looked at Luciano.
"What crawled up his arse and died?" he demanded. Brazil shrugged.
"He's just jealous of our awesome," he replied nonchalantly and cocked his head. "But more to the point, are you kidding? Did you see my trophy? You can't top that, man. You're totally buying."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that mate," Australia drawled and took his arm off Argentina's shoulder to dig around in his pocket.
"I'm going home," he announced, quite fed up already and made to get to his feet when something soft dropped on his head. Martin yanked it off with a scowl and held it tight in his fist so he could shove it back in Jacob's face and call him all manner of insults but paused when he saw Luciano's eyes grow to saucer-like proportions. Australia just grinned.
"Is that a..."
Argentina looked at his hand. The cherry red push-up bra looked back at him. Or it would have if it were capable of - why was he even thinking about that?!
"Madre de dios!" he exclaimed and flung it away like a hot poker iron. Jacob roared with laughter. Luciano snatched it up off the table and goggled at it, turned it over to stare at the numbers written in marker on the inner cups.
"No way!" he said. "No fucking way. How did you - but she...that's, that's not fair!" he said at last, turning to pout at Australia with something between awe and horrified amusement. And then he was laughing too. Colour flushed all the way to Argentina's cheeks.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he snapped and glared when Brazil started inspecting the size of the thing, putting the bra on his head and just generally making an idiot of himself while Australia watched on, looking beyond smug and just downright arrogant now. He slapped Martin jovially on the back.
"Come on mate, don't be like that!" he cajoled. "She was a nice girl. The best. I wouldn't mind taking her home with me. 'Specially after I told her she was welcome to watch me and my gay boyfriend getting it on while we were at it." Brazil looked up.
"Man," he said, and whistled lowly, sounding mournful. "I knew I should have played that card. Dammit. Think she's still around? I want to get a picture with her."
Argentina's eyes narrowed despite himself.
"Already taken care of," Australia said conspiratorially and flipped out his phone. "I've got the Pommie on speed-dial. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I - "
Brazil grabbed his arm. He was practically sparkling. "Do you think you could - can I...fuck, count me in! I have to send that to Gabi. No joke."
"'Subject: Hot Brazilian threesome'?" Jacob cracked up. "They'll be fucking pissing themselves." Luciano's grin was threatening to split his face.
"Not that you need more than one of me to have amazing sex but I'm totally not missing this!" he said excitedly and framed the bra in his hands as though it were a holy relic. Argentina felt a tic develop under his eye.
They didn't notice. Of course they didn't, they hadn't been paying attention to anything but this stupid game the entire night. It was not his problem. It wasn't.
"She's over there," Australia said suddenly out of the corner of his mouth, indicating the bar with his eyes. Then he paused, blinked, and grinned some more. "Hello, what's this? Seems she brought a friend."
The girls caught them looking and whispered to themselves. They giggled. Argentina realized with a pang that they had been among the first who had sidled up to him asking for a dance and which he had consistently rejected. So much for irony.
Brazil folded his arms on the table and leered playfully. "You might have to title that message 'Hot foursome' now," he teased. Martin suddenly wanted another drink. Strongly.
"Don't you have any self-respect?" he demanded, prompting them to both look at him with raised eyebrows. He felt his cheeks burn but his mouth turned down at the corners and he ploughed on, "Or has the fact that we're not like them not sunk into your thick heads yet? You can't just go around..."
"They're my people," Brazil replied with conviction. "Look, it's cool alright? It's not like they're ever going to find out who we are - "
" - even though it's probably going to earn us a big lecture from the Pommie and his Portuguese wife," Australia added. "But it will be so worth it." Brazil looked dreamy-eyed for a minute.
"So worth it," he said with a sigh. He waved to the girls. They giggled some more and made eyes at them. "Come on," he urged Martin, turning around. "Join us! Or just, you know," he waved his hand lazily, "wallow here in your jealousy and be a killjoy."
He had meant it as a joke. That was the most probable conclusion to spouting something so stupid. But Argentina was tired, frustrated and his head was pounding; he was perhaps, just a little too drunk to be thinking all that properly so when he saw red he attributed it to that annoying tic he had developed, and the blood rushing in his ears sounding louder than it probably was, because under normal circumstances he would have never stood up so fast and snapped,
"I am not jealous!"
Australia stopped laughing. Brazil's grin fell. They were silent. And they were staring at him. He glared back at them. And did not bury his face in his hands and curse his loosened tongue like he suddenly really, really wanted to. Fuck.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Until Jacob said at last (slowly, as though he were making sure he had heard right), "...you're jealous?"
"I'm not," Martin said through gritted teeth. Australia seemed mystified. He glanced at Brazil.
"You never told me he was the jealous type," he accused. Luciano looked affronted.
"He's not," he insisted. "Usually. I mean - I've never seen... well. We don't usually do this sort of thing. When you're not here. I guess." He was speaking haltingly, as though he had to think about the words coming out of his mouth. It was certainly a first. There was another pause. "Are you jealous?" If Argentina didn't know any better he would have thought he sounded gleefully giddy, of all things.
"Do whatever you want," he said flatly, and got to his feet. "I'm taking a cab."
Gravity, it seemed, was not his friend that night. The bane of every man that had one too many, the moment he set his feet down he felt the dizziness set in, and promptly keeled over flat on his face onto the dirty floor.
Australia moved his chair back to stare down at him. "Bugger," he said in some surprise. "You alright there mate?" Brazil just made a weird sort of snort that sounded like an ill-disguised laugh. He gave them both the finger. Wasn't this just fucking peachy. He swore if Brazil took a picture of this and sent it to Uruguay he'd castrate him with a plastic fruit knife.
"Fuck off," he growled and tried to sit up. It didn't work.
"Party's over I guess," Jacob murmured and moved, scraping his chair backwards in a way that grated on the inside of Martin's skull. "Come on." He felt himself being lifted off the floor and slung over a broad shoulder. Luciano was smirking at him, and continued to do so, dogging Jacob's steps on purpose in order to do it as they payed their tab and moved out of the bar. The girls gave them a disappointed look as they passed.
"Sorry ladies," Australia said with his best smile and patted Argentina on the arse with his free hand. "Gotta take the wife home and let him sleep it off. You know how it is."
The looks on their faces told him that they very clearly didn't. Martin felt a weird sort of triumph he couldn't quite place regardless; mostly because there was nothing as far from triumphant as being carried out of a nightclub like a deadweight. He scowled at them anyway. Brazil snickered.
"Easy now," he said as they walked out into the street. "No need to bite."
Argentina scowled at him too. He kicked his legs out. "Put me down you idiot," he snarled, and pushed his hands against Australia's back to lever himself up. "I'm perfectly capable of walking." Jacob shrugged.
"If you say so," he said and rolled his shoulders as he hefted Martin under the armpits and set him back on his feet. He was upright for all of five seconds before his knees gave out from under him. He sagged sideways and fell against Jacob, who laughed outright and tucked his arms around his waist. "I knew you were falling for me," he said and waggled his eyebrows, "but I didn't think you meant it literally."
Argentina beat a fist against his chest and made a face. "Let go." His fingers tightened in Australia's shirt when instead of doing like he asked (and really, when did they ever do what he asked), he instead pressed his nose against his neck and inhaled, drawing lips down the pulse. "Get off," he insisted. "Fuck, if you think I'm in the mood after all the crap you pulled back there - "
"So you were jealous," Brazil said in the same exact tone someone used when they knew they had struck gold. And god knows they'd all heard that one in the past. He came up behind Argentina and hugged him around the shoulders, forehead resting against the nape of his neck. "Why can't you be this adorable when you're sober?"
"I'm perfectly sober," Martin retorted, and involuntarily pressed himself against Jacob when Luciano started kissing his neck too. He shivered. "And I'm not jealous."
"Denial," Australia said, and grinned against his cheek. "That's attractive."
Argentina scowled and wrenched his head away. "Are you fucking - "
"Not yet," Brazil quipped and then they both snickered. "But if you want..." he let that one hang in the air a little. Argentina would have walked right out of there if they hadn't developed a habit of trapping him between them. He stepped on his foot anyway. "Oww," Luciano said, still in a half-fit of giggles and pressed himself up against Martin's back, until he felt much too warm and his cheeks started growing hot again. Jacob took advantage of his flush to kiss across his cheekbones. It was an increasingly difficult task to stay mad when they were both pressing their mouths to either side of his neck, let alone think coherently. Not that it could be argued that he was capable of thinking all that clearly to begin with, but one too many cocktails tended to do that to you.
"You'd take advantage of a drunk person?" he deadpanned, and thought back to the bar. The thought alone made him frown. "No, don't answer that. You would."
Australia thumbed at his hip with his right hand, feigning thoughtfulness. "I don't think it really works that way, mate." Argentina raised an eyebrow.
"And why the hell not? What, do you have some kind of double-standard when it comes to - "
"Can't really take advantage of you when all it takes is a few kisses to soften you up actually," Australia replied nonchalantly, completely straight-faced. The expression didn't last, especially because Argentina was now openly gaping at him in something akin to outrage. He grinned.
"Or someone telling you how awesome you are," Brazil said with a smirk and pressed his mouth up hot against his ear. "And how hot and amazing you look." His eyes flickered up to Australia with amusement. "That always works too."
The back of Argentina's neck turned crimson. He gritted his teeth as Australia continued to tease kisses across his face and over his mouth while Brazil whispered hot, low things in his ear that made his heart pound somewhere up in his head. Added to the alcohol singing in his veins, it was all a very warm, pleasant experience. For the sake of propriety, he fought it.
"I'm not - " he said again, for about the hundredth time that night, though now it sounded weak even to his own ears. Jacob clucked his tongue.
"You know I'm kinda getting a little sick of all the 'no's I've been hearing out of you tonight," he said. "How about an 'oh, yes'?"
Fortunately Martin was not drunk enough that such innuendo went over his head. "Not on your life," he replied flatly. Australia sighed in a very self-sacrificing sort of way.
"Well at least give me your number," he joked, and winked when Argentina looked at him sharply.
"And let you win the bet?" Brazil wanted to know, and wrapped his arms possessively around Argentina's waist. "No way. Don't give it to him," he insisted, looking imploringly at Martin. "Give it to me! At least I didn't throw a bra on your head!"
"No, you were just the one who pressed your face to it like it fell down from heaven when no one was looking," Jacob replied with a scoff, and leered playfully.
"Hey man, it was a good - "
"Neither of you are getting anything for a good long while if I can help it," Argentina growled and tried to wriggle out of their respective grips. They held on fast.
"'course I like your boxers well enough too myself," Australia pointed out, butting his forehead gently against the sour nation's. "If we're on the subject of hot negligee. You know those cute little football ones in your colours - "
" - you mean the ones he bought off ebay?" Brazil demanded, resting his chin on Argentina's shoulder and pressing his cheek against his neck. "The ones where they emblazoned his name in gold all over the elastic?" He snorted with laughter again, muffling the noise against his shirt. "Because those are totally hot. Totally."
"Be hotter still if you wore them around the house more often," Australia added. "Strut around a little. Show off that arse."
"I'm all for that," Brazil agreed, and took advantage of the fact that somewhere halfway through Argentina had gone completely red-faced and at a loss of words to grope the aforementioned arse.
This resulted in Martin arching up completely on his toes whilst making a very undignified noise, and consequently pressing him flush against Australia in the process, who immediately took the action into stride and started stroking his hip in slow up-and-down motions.
"You're not wearing them now are you?" he wanted to know, and ran his fingers over the edge of Argentina's jeans.
He gave up.
There was no conceivable way they could be anyone's problem but his. Ever. He told himself that this was because any other person would have thrown themselves off a bridge by now rather than listen to this idiotic babble.
But they seemed to know better. And were only trying to tell him so in their own ridiculously roundabout way. Argentina sighed in frustration.
"Why don't you find out?" he demanded and pulled Jacob down for a proper kiss. The first proper kiss he'd had all night. And about damn time too, his hormone levels seemed to be saying. The alcohol in his bloodstream and his dick seemed to agree wholeheartedly. It was either this or pass out, they argued, and really, if he was going to pass out he'd rather have done so in complete satisfaction.
"So we're playing the hot threesome card after all?" Brazil joked, and nuzzled along Argentina's ear as Australia tilted his head to kiss him deeper, sucking along his lower lip. "Awesome."
Argentina broke away from Australia, turned his head and kissed him too. Brazil's hands were under his shirt within moments, and he smiled into the kiss, leaning up on his toes and pressing his hips firmly against Martin's backside as they did so. "You're still not getting my number," he informed him; both of them. "Not that you fucking need to - you know what, forget it," he said and let them both lean in to kiss across his lips. His eyes fluttered shut. He was unable to keep the triumph out of his tone. "That game is over," he said seriously, and brushed his nose against Brazil's, over Australia's cheek.
They didn't seem to mind.
In retrospect it was possible that this was because they only ended up making it as far as the car before all bets were off. Or jeep rather. Jacob had a tendency to want to drive big hulking vehicles wherever he went, and here was no exception. Though for once he was profoundly grateful for its size; they'd all have never been able to tumble in the backseat otherwise. Luckier still that the carpark was more or less deserted at this hour of the night. Though looking back on it, they were probably too caught up in each other to notice anyway.
Anyone would be, Martin thought, though his process of rationality had long been eliminated somewhere between curling his fingers in the door handle while Brazil fucked him and Australia sucked him off. A seatbelt clasp dug insisently against his lower back but he ignored it. Australia had had to climb into the driver's seat and lean over and down in order for there to be enough space for all three of them, but like all crazy ideas with good intentions, they had accomplished it out of sheer force of will and the results had been rather...
"...brilliant," Jacob said later, when they had made it back, washed up and squeezed into Luciano's bed. He was reclining against the headboard and looking very pleased with himself. He was also fiddling with his phone. Granted he had nearly killed them all when he had taken the wheel and swung out onto the left side of the road but had made up for it later when he let Martin do him in the shower. He supposed they were making up for almost certainly ignoring him for most of the night and it was nice, in an odd sort of way, so he didn't complain.
They deserved it anyway.
Argentina lifted his head off his chest and peered suspiciously at the device he was texting away at. He had grown decidedly grumpier as the effects of amazing sex had faded and an amazing hangover arrived to take its place. Brazil was dozing behind him, face buried in his neck and arms and legs tangled in a heap between them.
"What are you doing?" he demanded. Australia gave him a sunny smile.
"Just annoying the Pommie," he drawled. "No big deal. Though I thought I'd add your number too so we could arrange, ah...proper future dates and all."
"You have my number," Martin said flatly and lay back down again; he felt less dizzy while doing so. Jacob's chest rose and fell evenly under his cheek with his breathing. "It's not a big deal and there will be no 'dates' in future. Okay?" Especially if they turn out as nerve-wracking and annoying as this one, he did not add because no doubt Australia would tease and call him on his jealousy again and their afterglows tended to suck enough without any added commentary.
"But I've never received such a risque token of affection though," Australia insisted, and pulled Argentina's boxer shorts off the bedside lamp, stretching the material in his hands and laughing when Argentina scowled and snatched it with a blush that made his ears go pink. He shoved them under his own pillow like he couldn't do it fast enough.
"I'm not giving them to you so you can fuck off," Martin grumbled, already hating certain Englishmen more than he already did for instilling the oddest fetishes in his former colonies. He was sorely tempted to pull at his own hair.
"Don't worry," Brazil said sleepily from somewhere behind him. He felt a forehead burrow against his back as the other nation tried to move closer. "He promised to give us a show later, remember?"
If by show he meant Argentina was going to walk around the house in his underwear just this once so they would shut up about it. There was certainly nothing "showy" about it, that was for sure. "Will you move a little?" he demanded and shuffled away from Australia just a bit. "This bed is crowded enough as it is."
Brazil responded by snorting and moving his knee up between Argentina's thighs, whose own legs drew up and tangled with Australia's. He did not seem to mind the cold of Tierra del Fuego as much, seeing as his own belly was very warm to the touch. "Great Victoria Desert," he said with a chuckle once, and then proceeded to give names to the rest of them including "Gibson", "Sandy" and "Stuart". Argentina had wondered if he named them himself; he wouldn't have been surprised.
"Don't pretend you don't like it," Luciano accused, and curled up closer. His hair was still damp from the shower and he could feel it against the back of his neck, cool against the contrast of the lips trailing reverently down his spine. "You hog the middle because you want hugs, admit it."
"I want no such thing," Martin said stiffly, as Jacob finished whatever message he was sending and flipped his phone shut. He set it down next to the lamp and rolled onto his side, where he promptly tucked the other nation's head under his chin and stroked his hair. He could feel Jacob's fingers becoming entangled with Luciano's every now and again as they touched him, sliding and clasping and... "Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, and was thankful that his blush was now hidden against Australia's chest.
But Brazil did not comment on the night's events, nor the fact that he and Australia had stored their night's 'winnings', handkerchief, brassiere and all, at the bottom of one of cupboard drawers for future reminiscence. Australia had joked about it and remarked that "some things are just best kept from the wife, eh?" And now Luciano saw that he was right. Amusing as it was, he doubted Martin would appreciate the comparison in the slighest.
"It's nice though, isn't it?" he murmured and hooked his arm around Argentina's waist so that he could clasp hands with Australia over his torso. "This." Even though none of them could even begin to interpret what 'this' was; it worked, and who was to say that something that worked wasn't a good thing? Given the circumstances at any rate.
Jacob gave his hand a squeeze and nosed Martin's hair away from his forehead. "Suppose so," he said with a slight grin. "Kind of makes you feel all warm and fuzzy when the silly bugger here starts getting anal over a few girls."
Brazil grinned back. "Oh, you know. He's more attached than he lets on," he said.
"To you fucking idiots?" Argentina demanded. "In your dreams."
But he let them poke and prod and fawn over him for the remainder of the night regardless.
Meanwhile, London:
England looked up when his phone made a tinny sound and vibrated on the coffee table. He checked the sender and frowned almost immediately after. "Good lord," he said, somewhat stiffly. "Does that brat have nothing better to do?"
Portugal looked up from his cup of tea. "Inglaterra?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. England waved him off.
"It's only Australia," he explained, and started pressing a few buttons. He opened the message. "You know what he's like. Probably came up with another joke in bad taste and had to inflict it on someone - like..." He stared at the subject line for one long moment. "Good, bloody lord what kind of joke is this?"
"May I see?" Portugal shifted closer, peering over his shoulder curiously. He raised his own eyebrows. "Hot Brazilian threesome...?" he said dryly and gave England a pointed look. "Oh Inglaterra, I hadn't realized."
Arthur coloured scarlet in an instant. "It's not - This isn't...good god Port what do you take me for? I don't subscribe to porn over my phone, stop looking at me like that!" Portugal laughed and patted his arm.
"I know, meu caro," he soothed. "I know. It's probably a joke after all. Why don't you take a look?" England sighed. He reached for his own cup of tea and scrolled downwards.
"You're right," he said. "Of course you're right. Charles may be a little rebellious but he's not downright - " He reached the bottom of the page.
And promptly choked on his tea.
"Wh - What the hell - !?" He dropped the phone like it was toxic. Portugal snatched it up. He was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"Well..." he said at last, clearing his throat. "Either there's a punchline we're missing or he really is supplying you with amateur porn, Inglaterra."
"In Brazil?!" Portugal pursed his lips.
"In all senses of the word it seems." He tilted the phone sideways and stared at the tiny screen before his eyes suddenly widened. "Is that Argentina?" England groaned.
"What's he done now?"
"Well," Portugal began hesitantly, "I would say they're actually embroiled in the act of - "
England turned beet-red and snatched his phone back. "I hadn't meant it literally!" he snapped. Portugal was frowning at the image on the phone.
"I believe I'll need to have a long chat with my brother after this. He's a bad influence enough as it is."
England looked at his phone mournfully and wished he could have his eyes scrubbed out. "Was he drunk? Good lord, he was drunk wasn't he? I thought we'd been over this - " he paused, and shook his head. They'd deal with the lectures later. He turned to Portugal. "If you're going to beat your brother up, I'm coming along to watch."
Portugal graciously nodded. "Of course, Inglaterra."
And somewhere else, a Spanish man suddenly, oddly, feared for his life.
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A/N:
Wrote this before my exam, which was today, which is why my head feels like it's going to explode so I had to finish this quickly. /sleeps orz
I CAN'T STOP WRITING THEM WHAT IS THIS AAAAAAAH. DDD: Oh and btw, these are Argentina's pimp undies. Fabulous aren't they? :|a I'll write real and proper car!sex too I promise. For now it was enough to see them being awwww to each other. As for their poor parents, Spain always gets blamed orz. |D
In OT3 headcanon Argentina is ttly their joint wife okay? OKAY. Kthnx. This would probably make more sense if I didn't form so much headcanon just in comments orz. XDDDD; I'll reply to all my neglected comments tomorrow! D:
My name for Australia is Charles Jacob Hargraves. Mostly because he comes with a wide variety of nicknames: Charlie, Chaz, Chazza, C.J., Jacobi, Jake-o, Jack, Hargie etc etc. XDDD
Charles was because of Charles I going with my headcanon of England's habit of naming his colonies after his kings and queens (ie. Alfred the Great). Also, Charles Dickens and Charles Dodgeson (aka Lewis Carroll). XD But Aussie doesn't like Charles because of how British it is, so mostly you'll hear him going by Jacob. |D England still calls him "Charles" though, much to his chagrin orz. I love my country. <333
Characters/Pairings: Australia/Brazil/Argentina, cameo by England and Portugal
Rating: PG-13 (R-ish at the end)
Warning: Polyamorous relationship of fail, issues with jealousy
Summary: (Prompt: Girls) OT3-fic. Brazil and Australia being themselves at a nightclub. Hijinks ensue. The wife disapproves. :|a
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Disclaimer and obligatory differences in height:
Brazil (Luciano) belongs to hina_teh_shitz 171cm
Argentina (Martin) belongs to rowein 178cm
Australia (Jacob) belongs to Himaruya, but his name/height belongs to candesceres (Me) 186cm
Being from Aussie means a lot of how I see him affects his personality, and you can read more about him here. XD
Australia had insisted on it. Which is why instead of spending a quiet night indoors watching the football they were out here, in a noisy, smoky, colourful nightclub. To 'pick up chicks' Jacob had put it, towering over the crowd and waving cheerfully at any girl that happened to look his way. Luciano had joined him for the sport of it, playing the part of interpreter to the Australian, who didn't know a lick of Portuguese. Or at least he pretended not to. Apparently the 'chicks', as he told Martin, always digged a hot foreigner. He dug him in the ribs playfully as he said this. Argentina thought he'd been watching too many of Alfred's movies, and said so. Scathingly.
Brazil told him to lighten up. He told them to fuck off. They looked at each other in the unnerving way they always did when they happened to be on the same wavelength.
"First person to get twenty phone numbers in the next hour shouts the next round of drinks," Australia said wickedly. Brazil grinned.
"Oh yeah? I can do that. I can totally do that. You're on." They borrowed a pen from the barkeep, wrote their names on paper coasters and shoved them at Argentina, who really, had only come along to enjoy a few drinks in peace, so he left them to it, rolling his eyes when they smirked at each other, bumped fists and moved off separately into the crowd. At least it was better than having them crack gay jokes over his magaritas. Let someone else deal with their idiocy for a change.
A pretty Brazilian girl with dark ringlets sauntered up to him and asked him for a dance. He politely declined. She left. Australia turned up five minutes later, looking decidedly smug. "Read 'em and weep," he said. He dropped a scrap of paper and what looked like an old receipt scribbled with digits in Martin's empty glass. Brazil returned with four, including something that looked like an expensive business card that he brought to his lips, kissed and tucked into his pocket, looking pleased with himself.
Jacob was on him in half a second, arm around his waist as he tried to shove his hand down his pants, demanding he share. Luciano laughed and pushed him away. "Later," he promised. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting two for one." Australia thought this over.
"We could always pose as a gay couple looking for a threesome," he offered. They decided they'd try that tactic later and disappeared again without so much as a backward glance at Argentina. He scoffed and ordered another glass and told himself they were someone else's problem tonight.
The hour rolled by. The girls had kept coming and Martin was about an inch away from snapping at them to fuck off and find someone else to molest. Though this could have been attributed to the glasses that were accumulating on his side of the table and making his head heavy and his mood sour. Some of them gave him their numbers anyway. Brazil and Australia would snatch them from his hands whenever they returned and fight for sovereignty over them like they were territories rather than pen on paper. When they weren't proudly displaying their own catches by dumping them all over Argentina and making him look like a perverted hoarder when they left again.
They tallied their scores on the paper coasters next to their names. On the nineteenth stroke Luciano came back with a lady's lace handkerchief, number written with an eye pencil and signed with a lipstick print. He had momentarily paused to catch his breath, throwing himself down next to Martin and putting his arm around his shoulder as he rubbed the telltale red makeup off his cheek with a laugh. Argentina considered poking him in the eye with one of the cheesy paper umbrellas he had gathered over the night, but no, there were numbers written on those too. He kept it in mind. It would certainly be ironic.
"Are you done now?" he asked tightly, running his finger over the rim of his glass and feigning nonchalance. They were not his problem, he wasn't their fucking babysitter, they could fool around as much as they liked for god's sake. Why was he even getting upset over this? Oh, right. The alcohol. He rubbed at his face. Luciano didn't even notice, the moron.
"Oh I'm done," he said happily and waved the handkerchief in Martin's face. "See this? This is what they give to winners." Argentina slapped it away; the cloying scent of perfume coming from the cloth was making his head hurt. Brazil made a face. "Man you don't have to look so sore, you were the one who decided to bum around here in the corner the whole night..."
Argentina slammed his hand down on the tabletop and whirled to glare at him, albeit a little unsteadily. This was not his problem. "And did you ever think," he growled, "for one fucking minute that was because - "
"Who's the man?" Australia said loudly over the music, coming up behind them and nearly making him jump out of his skin. He put his arms over both their shoulders and squeezed tight, grinning like an idiot. "Come on, be honest. Am I hot, or am I hot?"
"No comment," Martin said flatly once he had got over the initial shock. He looked away. Jacob raised his eyebrows and looked at Luciano.
"What crawled up his arse and died?" he demanded. Brazil shrugged.
"He's just jealous of our awesome," he replied nonchalantly and cocked his head. "But more to the point, are you kidding? Did you see my trophy? You can't top that, man. You're totally buying."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that mate," Australia drawled and took his arm off Argentina's shoulder to dig around in his pocket.
"I'm going home," he announced, quite fed up already and made to get to his feet when something soft dropped on his head. Martin yanked it off with a scowl and held it tight in his fist so he could shove it back in Jacob's face and call him all manner of insults but paused when he saw Luciano's eyes grow to saucer-like proportions. Australia just grinned.
"Is that a..."
Argentina looked at his hand. The cherry red push-up bra looked back at him. Or it would have if it were capable of - why was he even thinking about that?!
"Madre de dios!" he exclaimed and flung it away like a hot poker iron. Jacob roared with laughter. Luciano snatched it up off the table and goggled at it, turned it over to stare at the numbers written in marker on the inner cups.
"No way!" he said. "No fucking way. How did you - but she...that's, that's not fair!" he said at last, turning to pout at Australia with something between awe and horrified amusement. And then he was laughing too. Colour flushed all the way to Argentina's cheeks.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he snapped and glared when Brazil started inspecting the size of the thing, putting the bra on his head and just generally making an idiot of himself while Australia watched on, looking beyond smug and just downright arrogant now. He slapped Martin jovially on the back.
"Come on mate, don't be like that!" he cajoled. "She was a nice girl. The best. I wouldn't mind taking her home with me. 'Specially after I told her she was welcome to watch me and my gay boyfriend getting it on while we were at it." Brazil looked up.
"Man," he said, and whistled lowly, sounding mournful. "I knew I should have played that card. Dammit. Think she's still around? I want to get a picture with her."
Argentina's eyes narrowed despite himself.
"Already taken care of," Australia said conspiratorially and flipped out his phone. "I've got the Pommie on speed-dial. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I - "
Brazil grabbed his arm. He was practically sparkling. "Do you think you could - can I...fuck, count me in! I have to send that to Gabi. No joke."
"'Subject: Hot Brazilian threesome'?" Jacob cracked up. "They'll be fucking pissing themselves." Luciano's grin was threatening to split his face.
"Not that you need more than one of me to have amazing sex but I'm totally not missing this!" he said excitedly and framed the bra in his hands as though it were a holy relic. Argentina felt a tic develop under his eye.
They didn't notice. Of course they didn't, they hadn't been paying attention to anything but this stupid game the entire night. It was not his problem. It wasn't.
"She's over there," Australia said suddenly out of the corner of his mouth, indicating the bar with his eyes. Then he paused, blinked, and grinned some more. "Hello, what's this? Seems she brought a friend."
The girls caught them looking and whispered to themselves. They giggled. Argentina realized with a pang that they had been among the first who had sidled up to him asking for a dance and which he had consistently rejected. So much for irony.
Brazil folded his arms on the table and leered playfully. "You might have to title that message 'Hot foursome' now," he teased. Martin suddenly wanted another drink. Strongly.
"Don't you have any self-respect?" he demanded, prompting them to both look at him with raised eyebrows. He felt his cheeks burn but his mouth turned down at the corners and he ploughed on, "Or has the fact that we're not like them not sunk into your thick heads yet? You can't just go around..."
"They're my people," Brazil replied with conviction. "Look, it's cool alright? It's not like they're ever going to find out who we are - "
" - even though it's probably going to earn us a big lecture from the Pommie and his Portuguese wife," Australia added. "But it will be so worth it." Brazil looked dreamy-eyed for a minute.
"So worth it," he said with a sigh. He waved to the girls. They giggled some more and made eyes at them. "Come on," he urged Martin, turning around. "Join us! Or just, you know," he waved his hand lazily, "wallow here in your jealousy and be a killjoy."
He had meant it as a joke. That was the most probable conclusion to spouting something so stupid. But Argentina was tired, frustrated and his head was pounding; he was perhaps, just a little too drunk to be thinking all that properly so when he saw red he attributed it to that annoying tic he had developed, and the blood rushing in his ears sounding louder than it probably was, because under normal circumstances he would have never stood up so fast and snapped,
"I am not jealous!"
Australia stopped laughing. Brazil's grin fell. They were silent. And they were staring at him. He glared back at them. And did not bury his face in his hands and curse his loosened tongue like he suddenly really, really wanted to. Fuck.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Until Jacob said at last (slowly, as though he were making sure he had heard right), "...you're jealous?"
"I'm not," Martin said through gritted teeth. Australia seemed mystified. He glanced at Brazil.
"You never told me he was the jealous type," he accused. Luciano looked affronted.
"He's not," he insisted. "Usually. I mean - I've never seen... well. We don't usually do this sort of thing. When you're not here. I guess." He was speaking haltingly, as though he had to think about the words coming out of his mouth. It was certainly a first. There was another pause. "Are you jealous?" If Argentina didn't know any better he would have thought he sounded gleefully giddy, of all things.
"Do whatever you want," he said flatly, and got to his feet. "I'm taking a cab."
Gravity, it seemed, was not his friend that night. The bane of every man that had one too many, the moment he set his feet down he felt the dizziness set in, and promptly keeled over flat on his face onto the dirty floor.
Australia moved his chair back to stare down at him. "Bugger," he said in some surprise. "You alright there mate?" Brazil just made a weird sort of snort that sounded like an ill-disguised laugh. He gave them both the finger. Wasn't this just fucking peachy. He swore if Brazil took a picture of this and sent it to Uruguay he'd castrate him with a plastic fruit knife.
"Fuck off," he growled and tried to sit up. It didn't work.
"Party's over I guess," Jacob murmured and moved, scraping his chair backwards in a way that grated on the inside of Martin's skull. "Come on." He felt himself being lifted off the floor and slung over a broad shoulder. Luciano was smirking at him, and continued to do so, dogging Jacob's steps on purpose in order to do it as they payed their tab and moved out of the bar. The girls gave them a disappointed look as they passed.
"Sorry ladies," Australia said with his best smile and patted Argentina on the arse with his free hand. "Gotta take the wife home and let him sleep it off. You know how it is."
The looks on their faces told him that they very clearly didn't. Martin felt a weird sort of triumph he couldn't quite place regardless; mostly because there was nothing as far from triumphant as being carried out of a nightclub like a deadweight. He scowled at them anyway. Brazil snickered.
"Easy now," he said as they walked out into the street. "No need to bite."
Argentina scowled at him too. He kicked his legs out. "Put me down you idiot," he snarled, and pushed his hands against Australia's back to lever himself up. "I'm perfectly capable of walking." Jacob shrugged.
"If you say so," he said and rolled his shoulders as he hefted Martin under the armpits and set him back on his feet. He was upright for all of five seconds before his knees gave out from under him. He sagged sideways and fell against Jacob, who laughed outright and tucked his arms around his waist. "I knew you were falling for me," he said and waggled his eyebrows, "but I didn't think you meant it literally."
Argentina beat a fist against his chest and made a face. "Let go." His fingers tightened in Australia's shirt when instead of doing like he asked (and really, when did they ever do what he asked), he instead pressed his nose against his neck and inhaled, drawing lips down the pulse. "Get off," he insisted. "Fuck, if you think I'm in the mood after all the crap you pulled back there - "
"So you were jealous," Brazil said in the same exact tone someone used when they knew they had struck gold. And god knows they'd all heard that one in the past. He came up behind Argentina and hugged him around the shoulders, forehead resting against the nape of his neck. "Why can't you be this adorable when you're sober?"
"I'm perfectly sober," Martin retorted, and involuntarily pressed himself against Jacob when Luciano started kissing his neck too. He shivered. "And I'm not jealous."
"Denial," Australia said, and grinned against his cheek. "That's attractive."
Argentina scowled and wrenched his head away. "Are you fucking - "
"Not yet," Brazil quipped and then they both snickered. "But if you want..." he let that one hang in the air a little. Argentina would have walked right out of there if they hadn't developed a habit of trapping him between them. He stepped on his foot anyway. "Oww," Luciano said, still in a half-fit of giggles and pressed himself up against Martin's back, until he felt much too warm and his cheeks started growing hot again. Jacob took advantage of his flush to kiss across his cheekbones. It was an increasingly difficult task to stay mad when they were both pressing their mouths to either side of his neck, let alone think coherently. Not that it could be argued that he was capable of thinking all that clearly to begin with, but one too many cocktails tended to do that to you.
"You'd take advantage of a drunk person?" he deadpanned, and thought back to the bar. The thought alone made him frown. "No, don't answer that. You would."
Australia thumbed at his hip with his right hand, feigning thoughtfulness. "I don't think it really works that way, mate." Argentina raised an eyebrow.
"And why the hell not? What, do you have some kind of double-standard when it comes to - "
"Can't really take advantage of you when all it takes is a few kisses to soften you up actually," Australia replied nonchalantly, completely straight-faced. The expression didn't last, especially because Argentina was now openly gaping at him in something akin to outrage. He grinned.
"Or someone telling you how awesome you are," Brazil said with a smirk and pressed his mouth up hot against his ear. "And how hot and amazing you look." His eyes flickered up to Australia with amusement. "That always works too."
The back of Argentina's neck turned crimson. He gritted his teeth as Australia continued to tease kisses across his face and over his mouth while Brazil whispered hot, low things in his ear that made his heart pound somewhere up in his head. Added to the alcohol singing in his veins, it was all a very warm, pleasant experience. For the sake of propriety, he fought it.
"I'm not - " he said again, for about the hundredth time that night, though now it sounded weak even to his own ears. Jacob clucked his tongue.
"You know I'm kinda getting a little sick of all the 'no's I've been hearing out of you tonight," he said. "How about an 'oh, yes'?"
Fortunately Martin was not drunk enough that such innuendo went over his head. "Not on your life," he replied flatly. Australia sighed in a very self-sacrificing sort of way.
"Well at least give me your number," he joked, and winked when Argentina looked at him sharply.
"And let you win the bet?" Brazil wanted to know, and wrapped his arms possessively around Argentina's waist. "No way. Don't give it to him," he insisted, looking imploringly at Martin. "Give it to me! At least I didn't throw a bra on your head!"
"No, you were just the one who pressed your face to it like it fell down from heaven when no one was looking," Jacob replied with a scoff, and leered playfully.
"Hey man, it was a good - "
"Neither of you are getting anything for a good long while if I can help it," Argentina growled and tried to wriggle out of their respective grips. They held on fast.
"'course I like your boxers well enough too myself," Australia pointed out, butting his forehead gently against the sour nation's. "If we're on the subject of hot negligee. You know those cute little football ones in your colours - "
" - you mean the ones he bought off ebay?" Brazil demanded, resting his chin on Argentina's shoulder and pressing his cheek against his neck. "The ones where they emblazoned his name in gold all over the elastic?" He snorted with laughter again, muffling the noise against his shirt. "Because those are totally hot. Totally."
"Be hotter still if you wore them around the house more often," Australia added. "Strut around a little. Show off that arse."
"I'm all for that," Brazil agreed, and took advantage of the fact that somewhere halfway through Argentina had gone completely red-faced and at a loss of words to grope the aforementioned arse.
This resulted in Martin arching up completely on his toes whilst making a very undignified noise, and consequently pressing him flush against Australia in the process, who immediately took the action into stride and started stroking his hip in slow up-and-down motions.
"You're not wearing them now are you?" he wanted to know, and ran his fingers over the edge of Argentina's jeans.
He gave up.
There was no conceivable way they could be anyone's problem but his. Ever. He told himself that this was because any other person would have thrown themselves off a bridge by now rather than listen to this idiotic babble.
But they seemed to know better. And were only trying to tell him so in their own ridiculously roundabout way. Argentina sighed in frustration.
"Why don't you find out?" he demanded and pulled Jacob down for a proper kiss. The first proper kiss he'd had all night. And about damn time too, his hormone levels seemed to be saying. The alcohol in his bloodstream and his dick seemed to agree wholeheartedly. It was either this or pass out, they argued, and really, if he was going to pass out he'd rather have done so in complete satisfaction.
"So we're playing the hot threesome card after all?" Brazil joked, and nuzzled along Argentina's ear as Australia tilted his head to kiss him deeper, sucking along his lower lip. "Awesome."
Argentina broke away from Australia, turned his head and kissed him too. Brazil's hands were under his shirt within moments, and he smiled into the kiss, leaning up on his toes and pressing his hips firmly against Martin's backside as they did so. "You're still not getting my number," he informed him; both of them. "Not that you fucking need to - you know what, forget it," he said and let them both lean in to kiss across his lips. His eyes fluttered shut. He was unable to keep the triumph out of his tone. "That game is over," he said seriously, and brushed his nose against Brazil's, over Australia's cheek.
They didn't seem to mind.
In retrospect it was possible that this was because they only ended up making it as far as the car before all bets were off. Or jeep rather. Jacob had a tendency to want to drive big hulking vehicles wherever he went, and here was no exception. Though for once he was profoundly grateful for its size; they'd all have never been able to tumble in the backseat otherwise. Luckier still that the carpark was more or less deserted at this hour of the night. Though looking back on it, they were probably too caught up in each other to notice anyway.
Anyone would be, Martin thought, though his process of rationality had long been eliminated somewhere between curling his fingers in the door handle while Brazil fucked him and Australia sucked him off. A seatbelt clasp dug insisently against his lower back but he ignored it. Australia had had to climb into the driver's seat and lean over and down in order for there to be enough space for all three of them, but like all crazy ideas with good intentions, they had accomplished it out of sheer force of will and the results had been rather...
"...brilliant," Jacob said later, when they had made it back, washed up and squeezed into Luciano's bed. He was reclining against the headboard and looking very pleased with himself. He was also fiddling with his phone. Granted he had nearly killed them all when he had taken the wheel and swung out onto the left side of the road but had made up for it later when he let Martin do him in the shower. He supposed they were making up for almost certainly ignoring him for most of the night and it was nice, in an odd sort of way, so he didn't complain.
They deserved it anyway.
Argentina lifted his head off his chest and peered suspiciously at the device he was texting away at. He had grown decidedly grumpier as the effects of amazing sex had faded and an amazing hangover arrived to take its place. Brazil was dozing behind him, face buried in his neck and arms and legs tangled in a heap between them.
"What are you doing?" he demanded. Australia gave him a sunny smile.
"Just annoying the Pommie," he drawled. "No big deal. Though I thought I'd add your number too so we could arrange, ah...proper future dates and all."
"You have my number," Martin said flatly and lay back down again; he felt less dizzy while doing so. Jacob's chest rose and fell evenly under his cheek with his breathing. "It's not a big deal and there will be no 'dates' in future. Okay?" Especially if they turn out as nerve-wracking and annoying as this one, he did not add because no doubt Australia would tease and call him on his jealousy again and their afterglows tended to suck enough without any added commentary.
"But I've never received such a risque token of affection though," Australia insisted, and pulled Argentina's boxer shorts off the bedside lamp, stretching the material in his hands and laughing when Argentina scowled and snatched it with a blush that made his ears go pink. He shoved them under his own pillow like he couldn't do it fast enough.
"I'm not giving them to you so you can fuck off," Martin grumbled, already hating certain Englishmen more than he already did for instilling the oddest fetishes in his former colonies. He was sorely tempted to pull at his own hair.
"Don't worry," Brazil said sleepily from somewhere behind him. He felt a forehead burrow against his back as the other nation tried to move closer. "He promised to give us a show later, remember?"
If by show he meant Argentina was going to walk around the house in his underwear just this once so they would shut up about it. There was certainly nothing "showy" about it, that was for sure. "Will you move a little?" he demanded and shuffled away from Australia just a bit. "This bed is crowded enough as it is."
Brazil responded by snorting and moving his knee up between Argentina's thighs, whose own legs drew up and tangled with Australia's. He did not seem to mind the cold of Tierra del Fuego as much, seeing as his own belly was very warm to the touch. "Great Victoria Desert," he said with a chuckle once, and then proceeded to give names to the rest of them including "Gibson", "Sandy" and "Stuart". Argentina had wondered if he named them himself; he wouldn't have been surprised.
"Don't pretend you don't like it," Luciano accused, and curled up closer. His hair was still damp from the shower and he could feel it against the back of his neck, cool against the contrast of the lips trailing reverently down his spine. "You hog the middle because you want hugs, admit it."
"I want no such thing," Martin said stiffly, as Jacob finished whatever message he was sending and flipped his phone shut. He set it down next to the lamp and rolled onto his side, where he promptly tucked the other nation's head under his chin and stroked his hair. He could feel Jacob's fingers becoming entangled with Luciano's every now and again as they touched him, sliding and clasping and... "Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, and was thankful that his blush was now hidden against Australia's chest.
But Brazil did not comment on the night's events, nor the fact that he and Australia had stored their night's 'winnings', handkerchief, brassiere and all, at the bottom of one of cupboard drawers for future reminiscence. Australia had joked about it and remarked that "some things are just best kept from the wife, eh?" And now Luciano saw that he was right. Amusing as it was, he doubted Martin would appreciate the comparison in the slighest.
"It's nice though, isn't it?" he murmured and hooked his arm around Argentina's waist so that he could clasp hands with Australia over his torso. "This." Even though none of them could even begin to interpret what 'this' was; it worked, and who was to say that something that worked wasn't a good thing? Given the circumstances at any rate.
Jacob gave his hand a squeeze and nosed Martin's hair away from his forehead. "Suppose so," he said with a slight grin. "Kind of makes you feel all warm and fuzzy when the silly bugger here starts getting anal over a few girls."
Brazil grinned back. "Oh, you know. He's more attached than he lets on," he said.
"To you fucking idiots?" Argentina demanded. "In your dreams."
But he let them poke and prod and fawn over him for the remainder of the night regardless.
Meanwhile, London:
England looked up when his phone made a tinny sound and vibrated on the coffee table. He checked the sender and frowned almost immediately after. "Good lord," he said, somewhat stiffly. "Does that brat have nothing better to do?"
Portugal looked up from his cup of tea. "Inglaterra?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. England waved him off.
"It's only Australia," he explained, and started pressing a few buttons. He opened the message. "You know what he's like. Probably came up with another joke in bad taste and had to inflict it on someone - like..." He stared at the subject line for one long moment. "Good, bloody lord what kind of joke is this?"
"May I see?" Portugal shifted closer, peering over his shoulder curiously. He raised his own eyebrows. "Hot Brazilian threesome...?" he said dryly and gave England a pointed look. "Oh Inglaterra, I hadn't realized."
Arthur coloured scarlet in an instant. "It's not - This isn't...good god Port what do you take me for? I don't subscribe to porn over my phone, stop looking at me like that!" Portugal laughed and patted his arm.
"I know, meu caro," he soothed. "I know. It's probably a joke after all. Why don't you take a look?" England sighed. He reached for his own cup of tea and scrolled downwards.
"You're right," he said. "Of course you're right. Charles may be a little rebellious but he's not downright - " He reached the bottom of the page.
And promptly choked on his tea.
"Wh - What the hell - !?" He dropped the phone like it was toxic. Portugal snatched it up. He was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"Well..." he said at last, clearing his throat. "Either there's a punchline we're missing or he really is supplying you with amateur porn, Inglaterra."
"In Brazil?!" Portugal pursed his lips.
"In all senses of the word it seems." He tilted the phone sideways and stared at the tiny screen before his eyes suddenly widened. "Is that Argentina?" England groaned.
"What's he done now?"
"Well," Portugal began hesitantly, "I would say they're actually embroiled in the act of - "
England turned beet-red and snatched his phone back. "I hadn't meant it literally!" he snapped. Portugal was frowning at the image on the phone.
"I believe I'll need to have a long chat with my brother after this. He's a bad influence enough as it is."
England looked at his phone mournfully and wished he could have his eyes scrubbed out. "Was he drunk? Good lord, he was drunk wasn't he? I thought we'd been over this - " he paused, and shook his head. They'd deal with the lectures later. He turned to Portugal. "If you're going to beat your brother up, I'm coming along to watch."
Portugal graciously nodded. "Of course, Inglaterra."
And somewhere else, a Spanish man suddenly, oddly, feared for his life.
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A/N:
Wrote this before my exam, which was today, which is why my head feels like it's going to explode so I had to finish this quickly. /sleeps orz
I CAN'T STOP WRITING THEM WHAT IS THIS AAAAAAAH. DDD: Oh and btw, these are Argentina's pimp undies. Fabulous aren't they? :|a I'll write real and proper car!sex too I promise. For now it was enough to see them being awwww to each other. As for their poor parents, Spain always gets blamed orz. |D
In OT3 headcanon Argentina is ttly their joint wife okay? OKAY. Kthnx. This would probably make more sense if I didn't form so much headcanon just in comments orz. XDDDD; I'll reply to all my neglected comments tomorrow! D:
My name for Australia is Charles Jacob Hargraves. Mostly because he comes with a wide variety of nicknames: Charlie, Chaz, Chazza, C.J., Jacobi, Jake-o, Jack, Hargie etc etc. XDDD
Charles was because of Charles I going with my headcanon of England's habit of naming his colonies after his kings and queens (ie. Alfred the Great). Also, Charles Dickens and Charles Dodgeson (aka Lewis Carroll). XD But Aussie doesn't like Charles because of how British it is, so mostly you'll hear him going by Jacob. |D England still calls him "Charles" though, much to his chagrin orz. I love my country. <333