Bot: Hi hi! I've been in a fic slump lately. I can type up nothing but, like, my stupid reports for school D8

But then I found this lil comic, 'Whipped', on Deviant Art, by ToadCandies

Link of epic amazing win ------ (http:/ /deviant art .com/ art/ APH-Whipped -156757217)

Just take out the spaces and don't add the ( )s

It got me completely fired up mentally! It makes me so happy! xDD SO here we go!
Oh, also;

Ivan/Matthew if you really look at it.

I do not own Hetalia. If I did there would be SO much more Canada, it wouldn't be funny x3

**Note** Any speculations of shops or hotels are simply that. Speculation, Cause I've never been to Canada~

Whipped

.

The small ice-cream shop in Vancouver, Canada was packed with people from around the world. A few were simply spectators, deciding to take the long trek to the North American country to cheer on their home land, and some proud Canadians themselves. There were athletes as well, deciding not to waste any down time that they were given in their hotel rooms, and spend it taking in the scenery. It was relatively quiet, the murmuring or laughing of different groups of people drifting through the air. The waitress smiled as she heard the tinkling of the bell above the door, making her aware of new possible customers.

Turning to the door, the woman looked slightly surprised to see two men, hands clasped lightly together, and her eyes widened slightly. No, she wasn't against gays, far from it actually, it was just surprising that they would seem to be so open about it. One of them was tall, almost monstrously so, with dirty pale hair, purple eyes, and a long tan coat with a scarf. His eyes were what scared her most about him, even more than the intimidating height. They seemed vary dark, irritation and a seemingly violent intent swirling in them, and yet he had an almost childlike smile plastered to his face. The other was a regular in the shop, with his blond hair, red, maple leafed hoodie and violetish blue eyes and odd little curl poking out of his head. He was... um... Well, his name didn't matter at the moment. Warily, hoping not to offend the tall man some how, she walked up to them, and put on a polite smile, "Hello, how are you two today, eh? Would you like a booth seat or a table?" The two looked at each other, then the taller one spoke, "A booth seat, if you would not mind, da?"

'Another Russian.' His accent was thick, almost to the point of her not being able to understand. Fortunately for her, she had dealt with many accents today, so she could comprehend his words. "Alright, follow me sirs, and I'll show you two to your table." They followed, as all her customers did. As she ushered them into their booth, she found it curious that they didn't sit on the same side, instead choosing to sit across from each other.

Mentally shrugging her shoulders, she gave them each a menu, "Here you are, would you two like anything to drink?" "U-um, a Coke please. Ivan, would you like one, eh?" The other shook his head, smile still there, but his frighting eyes were boring into... um... the other guys own orbs. Ugh! That was bothering her so much! It started with a 'M' Manfred? Madeline... Ma.. Maaaa... M-.... Matthew! That was his name, Matthew! Proud with herself, she nodded, "Alright, one Coke, I'll be back in a sec, eh!"

It indeed only took her a few seconds, and then she was back, handing the blond his Coke, "Have you decided, yet?" She asked with a smile, picking up their menus. The scary man, Ivan, answered, "Da, I'd like the Strawberry Sunday," Scribbling it down on her pad, she turned to Matthew, "And you, eh?" He shook his head, smiling, "No thank you, eh." Nodding she left, and came back a few minutes later with the icy treat and placed it in front of the Russian man. His eyes seemed to be even worse, angrily looking at his partner, or friend. She swallowed, and laughed lightly, nervously, "A-alright, I"ll come back in a bit and check up on you, eh." With those words, the woman scampered away from the terrifyingly dark aura around the large man and his smaller companion.

The two were alone now, no chances for interruptions, unless a fellow nation spotted them and decided to sit with them and chat. But the foreboding feeling around Russia pretty much sealed their alone time. Matthew, known as Canada to some, heaved a sigh. 'He's so mad at me. It's not my fault I beat him in hockey, eh. He should have known that I wouldn't let this go easily. It's just as important to me as it is to him, if not more at the moment...' Gathering up what little of his off-ice courage he had, he tried again.

"But Ivan-" "No." The Russian snapped, the smile slipped from his face, as if it had never been there to begin with. He was still quite angry about his loss to his... boyfriend? Ivan hadn't really thought about what to call Matthew, boyfriend sounded too casual, and yet lover sounded a bit too intimate. In conversation, Ivan mentally succumbed to the fact that, in conversation, he would most likely refer to them as lovers. Shaking that from his mind, he took a spoonfull of his desert, and looked to the younger boy from under his eyelashes. He was pouting slightly, hurt evident in his eyes, shoulders sagged almost unnoticeably to the untrained eye. The tiniest pang of guilt sparked in his stomach, knowing he had caused his lover to be in such a sad state, but he crushed it easily. No. He was being firm on this.

"I will not be attending today's game, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise." Popping the spoon into his mouth, he let it sit in his mouth for a moment and chewed it lightly, not looking at Canada. The Canadian, however, had the gears in his head turning, and he almost smiled deviously to himself. Almost. Instead he sighed and placed his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek into it.

"You know Ivan, I'd be really happy if you were there to cheer me on..." he paused, and ruffled his hair a bit, pushing his glasses a bit further down his nose than was comfortable, and pulled his collar down a bit. He quietly placed his glass on both of his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a light blush, and took out an ice cube and rubbed it along his lips, making them look a bit redder, as well as shiny in the lighting. He then returned to his previous position.

"... And if I win, I'd be even happier... which could mean very good things for you..." he sighed, which seemed to get Ivan's attention, and closed one of his eyes and gave an alluring smile. The older country looked up and he gagged on his iced treat, having to spit a small amount of it out in order not to choke. His boyfriends appearance looking absolutely.... well, fuckably adorable, for a lack of better words. And considering they hadn't done anything of the sexual sort since the Olympics had began...

His mouth and throat went dry, and he almost couldn't think for a moment, the various scenarios running though his mind, all of them having to do with a blushing, keening, begging-to-be-fucked-longer-and-harder, 'Ngah! O-oh, Oh god Ivan-- IVAN! H-harder s-s'il vous plaît!', blond beneath him. His pants felt suddenly uncomfortably tight. He could feel the lightest of a blush on his cheeks. "Ah..."

Matthew smiled sweetly, although his eyes contained a devious glint in their almost endless depths, 'Wait for it...'

Sunday Afternoon at the Stadium

.

Before the match, Alfred F. Jones, the US of A, looked on through the crowd and grinned proudly at his people. All of them, here, despite the cold, cheering him on. He then looked to his brother's side of the field, filled to the point of almost overflowing with Canadian Patriots. He shook his head. Matthew had put up a great fight during these games, but this was one battle that he just couldn't let his little brother have. He felt slightly bad for him though. Knowing Ivan, he would still be in an angry state, refusing to come to this event, which ment so much to Matt. He was about to go to the locker rooms, when something caught his eye. Something that seemed to be a large Russian...

'No. Way.' He quickly strode over to the figure with the largest grin on his face, to see that it was, indeed, Ivan Braginski. But the man was not wearing his usual coat, oh no. He was decked out in almost all of the Canadian Fan gear, from fluffyish hat to red and black boots with white maple leafs on the front. At first Alfred didn't say anything, knowing better, even in his little hero-fantasy filled mind. The Russian gave him a side glance, then a curt nod, acknowledging his prescience but not giving a chance for a conversation. The silence between the two was almost deafening.

"He bribed you with sex, didn't he?" Ivan stiffened, his fist quivering angrily and his glare snapped to Alfred's face, murder in his eyes. 'That's a yes.' Alfred thought smugly, 'Mattie dose have that french half to him...' but instead of saying something along those lines, or even something slightly civil for that matter, he just scoffed and looked away from Ivan,

"Dickwhippe-"

"Shut. Up."

Bot: I'm sorry D8 I was gonna try to do a lemon... really I was D8

B-but my family's here, a-and my little sister is always in the room....

-blushes'ndmumbles- and I'm too embarassed to write it.....

Read and Review~ (And I"m sorry I fail hardcore DD8)