Fic: "Underside of Time"
Title: Underside of Time
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: America/Belarus
Summary: Spy AU where America and Belarus work for rival spy organizations and always end up doing missions in the same location and get together when they're not spying.
Notes: This was written for fivedayslater as part of the Secret Santa at girlnationtan. Enjoy!
Underside of Time
This is the story of two companions; even lovers, as one may call them. Some may even call them star-crossed lovers, but they would reject that label, as it implies a sort of innocence, and they had both cast away any shred of innocence they had left. One had done so to protect what little good was left in this world, and the other had done so when all other paths had been closed off.
This is the story of two in the underworld, reaching for what light they could see through the darkness, the light buried deep within themselves. Their true names have been lost to the passage of time, and in this simple recollection, the names of the involved have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent.
Now, let us raise the curtains on this fleeting moment, just for the two of them.
The building was dark and a person could barely see anything, but all the security systems had been disabled, so he didn't fear that he would be caught. Not tonight, not ever. He had been in this profession for years, longer than he cared to remember, and he had never failed once. There was only one only other person in this world he considered as good as he was.
America held a flashlight in front of him, the light set on the lowest, dimmest setting, and his footsteps echoed throughout the empty staircase. This place was emptier than he expected, but spike a few punchbowls during a business party, and most people would be down for the rest of the night. He chuckled silently to himself; that was a fact of life. Those people were either passed out or bent over a toilet bowl, but either way, he would be obtaining the information he needed from right under their noses.
He wondered what the original purpose of these staircases was for; maybe a fire escape, or maybe just a convenient escape route for the politicians wanting to avoid interaction with others. Either way this path had been forgotten, and once he had broken the lock on the doors, these staircases had provided him with a shortcut. But the best shortcuts could only be used once, and he couldn't afford to become lost and be forced to retrace his steps. He only hoped his path from here on out would be straightforward.
His footsteps continued to echo, and he fought back the urge to look back.
* * *
Outside the tall building, Belarus' black dress glimmered in the moonlight. It was not entirely practical attire for a mission, but she had to first infiltrate the party being held here to obtain a map of this building, and formal attire made her less likely to stand out, and she had grown accustomed to moving around in high heels.
Once the party had begun to wind down, she had snuck away from the crowds and made her way up to the rooftop. She stood near the ledge, overlooking the bright lights of the city. According to the information she had acquired, her target room was on the north side of the building.
She had a rope tied to a pipe that jutted out from the rooftop, and slowly she began to grapple from the edge of the rooftop, feeling the sturdy material of the rope beneath her gloved hands, and the other end of the rope was tied to a harness around her waist. When she lowered herself down to the large window that was her destination, she reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a small laser pointer from her bra. (While she considered such an action indecent, it still had its uses, especially as this dress didn't have any pockets and her purse wasn't secure enough.)
This laser pointer had been specifically modified for her, and it could emit a powerful laser, strong enough to at least cut through glass. She switched it on, being careful to hold it away from her eyes, and slowly she began to cut a rectangular outline on the window, large enough for her, and once she was finished, she kicked in the pane of glass, and it did not shatter as it hit the floor.
Inhaling a deep breath, she began swinging back and forth to gain momentum, and once she had enough she swung herself into the newly made opening, and as she hit the ground she rolled into a landing.
This particular office was rather empty, and Belarus wasn't searching for much, she thought to herself and she got to her feet and brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. Just a few documents related to an unknown scandal.
As she searched through the office she didn't dare turn on any lights; it would only draw attention as there were no other lights on this high in the building, and her night vision was rather excellent after years of training.
Soon she found the documents she was looking for behind a framed photograph that hung on the wall, and it was too dark to make out the image, but that was unimportant. As she hiked up her dress to put the papers in the garter that circled her thigh, she heard the door open, and she immediately reached for her knife from a sheath strapped to her other thigh and held it defensively in front of her.
A blonde man wearing glasses and a tuxedo stood in the doorway, and upon his lips was a familiar stupid, yet sincere smile. Although Belarus knew who this man was, she did not yet lower her knife. "America," she hissed through gritted teeth.
"Hey there," America greeted, waving his hand cheerfully. "Should've expected you to be here too. The game just got more interesting."
"This isn't a game," Belarus scolded as she put away her knife and walked toward the window, and she glanced over her shoulder at America.
America only smirked, but it was a gentle smirk, with no malice behind it. And that same smirk vanished at the sound of footsteps running rapidly up the stairwell just outside the office.
"Damn it…" Belarus swore. "You must've left a trail for them to follow."
America didn't seem fazed; he only ran his fingers through his golden hair. "Maybe I got some bad information. Well, there's only one way out of here." A broad smile came upon his lips, and before Belarus could react, he had rushed over to her, wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, and pulled a small grappling gun out from underneath his tuxedo jacket.
"Wha… what are you doing?" Belarus demanded to know, trying to repress the blush coming to her cheeks.
"Trying to make a dramatic exit," America answered without a moment's hesitation. Without waiting for a response, he stepped upon the ledge of the window and then jumped out, holding Belarus tightly.
Even as they fell and as she wrapped his arms tight around his neck, she wasn't scared. She sometimes wondered if she could even feel fear anymore. America certainly didn't, especially if he was still pulling stunts like these.
America pointed his grappling gun at a nearby smaller building and then pulled the trigger, the hook launching from the barrel and then piercing the ledge of the other rooftop. The hook held, stopping their fall, and even as they hit the side of the building hard, he didn't let go of either the gun or Belarus.
He flipped another switch on the grappling gun, and slowly the two of them began ascending, and once they had reached the rooftop, he gently pushed Belarus up onto even footing before hoisting himself upward.
"Well, wasn't that fun?" America laughed, as he knelt down to grip the hook and, with a great effort, pull it free; he was stronger than the average human, as was Belarus. "Can't leave any evidence behind.
"A strange definition of 'fun,'" Belarus replied, "but not entirely useless."
America's smile became wider and he straightened his back and dusted off his tuxedo. "C'mon, you can sound more grateful than that!"
Belarus waved her hand dismissively. "Just a stroke of luck, America. In any case, I'll be taking my leave now," she added as she walked toward the fire escape to her left.
America didn't follow. "Our date's still on, right?" he called out behind her.
Belarus only nodded as she looked back at him. There may had also been the faintest hints of a smile on her lips, but in the dim moonlight it was almost impossible to tell.
* * *
Rivals, friends, lovers, partners - such labels were pointless. Ill-defined at best, misleading at worst, neither of them really knew how to define their relationship. They didn't even now each other's real names, as in this line of work, a lack of truth was one of the prices they had to pay.
Belarus rested her head on America's bare chest. Their bodies were entangled on a large, soft bed inside a luxurious hotel room. The lights were dim, but she could still clearly make out his features. Only in this small space could they be open with each other, but even here they could never be entirely honest with each other or themselves.
America ran his fingers through Belarus' long hair. "I've been wondering something," he began to say, his voice soft, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "How did you get involved in this business?"
Belarus didn't lift her head, preferring instead to listen to America's steady heartbeat. "I had no other choice," she answered. "I lost my brother, my sister, and this was the only way I had to find out what happen to them." She let out a heavy sigh, and then she quickly added, "What about you?"
"To protect," America replied without a moment's thought. "It's underhanded, deceitful, and I'll never see heaven this way, but still, sometimes this is the only way to fight evil." He let out a soft chuckle. "Not the most traditional kind of hero, I know."
"'Hero' and 'evil' are just words, subjective labels," Belarus said, shrugging her slim shoulders. "It's pointless to think about things like that."
America tilted Belarus' chin upward so that he could look her in her eyes. "If I was as pessimistic as you are, I'd never have survived in this business," he said, his tone betraying his wide smile. "I have to keep believing in the good in this world so that I can keep moving forward." He raised his other hand to gently stroke Belarus' face. "What would your brother think of your attitude?"
Belarus dug her nails into America's chest. "Don't speak of my dear brother like that!" she hissed through gritted teeth.
"All right, all right!" America laughed, flinching, but it was an exaggerated flinch, only pretending to be hurt by Belarus' words. "Sorry about that, Belarus."
Belarus nodded curtly. "Just so you understand."
America only laughed in response, and he still smiled that stupid, sincere smile. He leaned forward, only a hair's space now between his and Belarus' faces, and with his breath warmth against her lips, he whispered, "I know you hate hearing these kinds of things, but still, thank you…" And before Belarus had a chance to respond, he had kissed her, and he cupped her face, his hands calloused and warm.
It was a gentle kiss, different from the ones they had shared earlier, but no less passionate. He had kissed her first, he always had. She laid her hands on his shoulders, near his neck, feeling the various scars that marked his skin. Her own scars were numerous as well, and only he was allowed to see them.
When the kiss was broken, he pulled her into a tight embrace, and when his lips were near her ear, he spoke again. "I want to be honest, I want to share everything with you. My real name is…"
She felt her heart began to race as she listened. A slight smile tugged at her lips, and then she turned his face toward hers so that she could kiss him.
In a hidden time, a fleeting moment of peace, just for the two of them.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: America/Belarus
Summary: Spy AU where America and Belarus work for rival spy organizations and always end up doing missions in the same location and get together when they're not spying.
Notes: This was written for fivedayslater as part of the Secret Santa at girlnationtan. Enjoy!
Underside of Time
This is the story of two companions; even lovers, as one may call them. Some may even call them star-crossed lovers, but they would reject that label, as it implies a sort of innocence, and they had both cast away any shred of innocence they had left. One had done so to protect what little good was left in this world, and the other had done so when all other paths had been closed off.
This is the story of two in the underworld, reaching for what light they could see through the darkness, the light buried deep within themselves. Their true names have been lost to the passage of time, and in this simple recollection, the names of the involved have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent.
Now, let us raise the curtains on this fleeting moment, just for the two of them.
The building was dark and a person could barely see anything, but all the security systems had been disabled, so he didn't fear that he would be caught. Not tonight, not ever. He had been in this profession for years, longer than he cared to remember, and he had never failed once. There was only one only other person in this world he considered as good as he was.
America held a flashlight in front of him, the light set on the lowest, dimmest setting, and his footsteps echoed throughout the empty staircase. This place was emptier than he expected, but spike a few punchbowls during a business party, and most people would be down for the rest of the night. He chuckled silently to himself; that was a fact of life. Those people were either passed out or bent over a toilet bowl, but either way, he would be obtaining the information he needed from right under their noses.
He wondered what the original purpose of these staircases was for; maybe a fire escape, or maybe just a convenient escape route for the politicians wanting to avoid interaction with others. Either way this path had been forgotten, and once he had broken the lock on the doors, these staircases had provided him with a shortcut. But the best shortcuts could only be used once, and he couldn't afford to become lost and be forced to retrace his steps. He only hoped his path from here on out would be straightforward.
His footsteps continued to echo, and he fought back the urge to look back.
* * *
Outside the tall building, Belarus' black dress glimmered in the moonlight. It was not entirely practical attire for a mission, but she had to first infiltrate the party being held here to obtain a map of this building, and formal attire made her less likely to stand out, and she had grown accustomed to moving around in high heels.
Once the party had begun to wind down, she had snuck away from the crowds and made her way up to the rooftop. She stood near the ledge, overlooking the bright lights of the city. According to the information she had acquired, her target room was on the north side of the building.
She had a rope tied to a pipe that jutted out from the rooftop, and slowly she began to grapple from the edge of the rooftop, feeling the sturdy material of the rope beneath her gloved hands, and the other end of the rope was tied to a harness around her waist. When she lowered herself down to the large window that was her destination, she reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a small laser pointer from her bra. (While she considered such an action indecent, it still had its uses, especially as this dress didn't have any pockets and her purse wasn't secure enough.)
This laser pointer had been specifically modified for her, and it could emit a powerful laser, strong enough to at least cut through glass. She switched it on, being careful to hold it away from her eyes, and slowly she began to cut a rectangular outline on the window, large enough for her, and once she was finished, she kicked in the pane of glass, and it did not shatter as it hit the floor.
Inhaling a deep breath, she began swinging back and forth to gain momentum, and once she had enough she swung herself into the newly made opening, and as she hit the ground she rolled into a landing.
This particular office was rather empty, and Belarus wasn't searching for much, she thought to herself and she got to her feet and brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. Just a few documents related to an unknown scandal.
As she searched through the office she didn't dare turn on any lights; it would only draw attention as there were no other lights on this high in the building, and her night vision was rather excellent after years of training.
Soon she found the documents she was looking for behind a framed photograph that hung on the wall, and it was too dark to make out the image, but that was unimportant. As she hiked up her dress to put the papers in the garter that circled her thigh, she heard the door open, and she immediately reached for her knife from a sheath strapped to her other thigh and held it defensively in front of her.
A blonde man wearing glasses and a tuxedo stood in the doorway, and upon his lips was a familiar stupid, yet sincere smile. Although Belarus knew who this man was, she did not yet lower her knife. "America," she hissed through gritted teeth.
"Hey there," America greeted, waving his hand cheerfully. "Should've expected you to be here too. The game just got more interesting."
"This isn't a game," Belarus scolded as she put away her knife and walked toward the window, and she glanced over her shoulder at America.
America only smirked, but it was a gentle smirk, with no malice behind it. And that same smirk vanished at the sound of footsteps running rapidly up the stairwell just outside the office.
"Damn it…" Belarus swore. "You must've left a trail for them to follow."
America didn't seem fazed; he only ran his fingers through his golden hair. "Maybe I got some bad information. Well, there's only one way out of here." A broad smile came upon his lips, and before Belarus could react, he had rushed over to her, wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, and pulled a small grappling gun out from underneath his tuxedo jacket.
"Wha… what are you doing?" Belarus demanded to know, trying to repress the blush coming to her cheeks.
"Trying to make a dramatic exit," America answered without a moment's hesitation. Without waiting for a response, he stepped upon the ledge of the window and then jumped out, holding Belarus tightly.
Even as they fell and as she wrapped his arms tight around his neck, she wasn't scared. She sometimes wondered if she could even feel fear anymore. America certainly didn't, especially if he was still pulling stunts like these.
America pointed his grappling gun at a nearby smaller building and then pulled the trigger, the hook launching from the barrel and then piercing the ledge of the other rooftop. The hook held, stopping their fall, and even as they hit the side of the building hard, he didn't let go of either the gun or Belarus.
He flipped another switch on the grappling gun, and slowly the two of them began ascending, and once they had reached the rooftop, he gently pushed Belarus up onto even footing before hoisting himself upward.
"Well, wasn't that fun?" America laughed, as he knelt down to grip the hook and, with a great effort, pull it free; he was stronger than the average human, as was Belarus. "Can't leave any evidence behind.
"A strange definition of 'fun,'" Belarus replied, "but not entirely useless."
America's smile became wider and he straightened his back and dusted off his tuxedo. "C'mon, you can sound more grateful than that!"
Belarus waved her hand dismissively. "Just a stroke of luck, America. In any case, I'll be taking my leave now," she added as she walked toward the fire escape to her left.
America didn't follow. "Our date's still on, right?" he called out behind her.
Belarus only nodded as she looked back at him. There may had also been the faintest hints of a smile on her lips, but in the dim moonlight it was almost impossible to tell.
* * *
Rivals, friends, lovers, partners - such labels were pointless. Ill-defined at best, misleading at worst, neither of them really knew how to define their relationship. They didn't even now each other's real names, as in this line of work, a lack of truth was one of the prices they had to pay.
Belarus rested her head on America's bare chest. Their bodies were entangled on a large, soft bed inside a luxurious hotel room. The lights were dim, but she could still clearly make out his features. Only in this small space could they be open with each other, but even here they could never be entirely honest with each other or themselves.
America ran his fingers through Belarus' long hair. "I've been wondering something," he began to say, his voice soft, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "How did you get involved in this business?"
Belarus didn't lift her head, preferring instead to listen to America's steady heartbeat. "I had no other choice," she answered. "I lost my brother, my sister, and this was the only way I had to find out what happen to them." She let out a heavy sigh, and then she quickly added, "What about you?"
"To protect," America replied without a moment's thought. "It's underhanded, deceitful, and I'll never see heaven this way, but still, sometimes this is the only way to fight evil." He let out a soft chuckle. "Not the most traditional kind of hero, I know."
"'Hero' and 'evil' are just words, subjective labels," Belarus said, shrugging her slim shoulders. "It's pointless to think about things like that."
America tilted Belarus' chin upward so that he could look her in her eyes. "If I was as pessimistic as you are, I'd never have survived in this business," he said, his tone betraying his wide smile. "I have to keep believing in the good in this world so that I can keep moving forward." He raised his other hand to gently stroke Belarus' face. "What would your brother think of your attitude?"
Belarus dug her nails into America's chest. "Don't speak of my dear brother like that!" she hissed through gritted teeth.
"All right, all right!" America laughed, flinching, but it was an exaggerated flinch, only pretending to be hurt by Belarus' words. "Sorry about that, Belarus."
Belarus nodded curtly. "Just so you understand."
America only laughed in response, and he still smiled that stupid, sincere smile. He leaned forward, only a hair's space now between his and Belarus' faces, and with his breath warmth against her lips, he whispered, "I know you hate hearing these kinds of things, but still, thank you…" And before Belarus had a chance to respond, he had kissed her, and he cupped her face, his hands calloused and warm.
It was a gentle kiss, different from the ones they had shared earlier, but no less passionate. He had kissed her first, he always had. She laid her hands on his shoulders, near his neck, feeling the various scars that marked his skin. Her own scars were numerous as well, and only he was allowed to see them.
When the kiss was broken, he pulled her into a tight embrace, and when his lips were near her ear, he spoke again. "I want to be honest, I want to share everything with you. My real name is…"
She felt her heart began to race as she listened. A slight smile tugged at her lips, and then she turned his face toward hers so that she could kiss him.
In a hidden time, a fleeting moment of peace, just for the two of them.