Mon Dieu = My God

Oh hon oh, mon petit Matthieu a trouvé l'amour = *creepy French laugh*, my small Matthew has found love.

(Please correct me if i'm wrong, I used Google Translate.)

Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

AN: In celebration of Canada Day and Pokémon month, I present thee with this! For I am a nerd and love to combine such things.

"Hey Mattie,"

The movement of long, thin fingers ceased their button mashing and their owner glanced up to meet the wary gaze of the violet eyed person they had called out. The two then stared at the other briefly before America's eyes crawled back to his game screen and continued conversing.

"You know," He drawled lazily, "you remind me of a Bidoof."

Narrowing his pretty eyes at the man with sun kissed hair and releasing a heavy sigh, Canada replied with great reluctance, "And why is that, eh?"

Recently, much to Canada's horror, Japan was rapidly producing video games of all sorts and lately, it seemed like everyone was engrossed with the newest edition of the Pokémon franchise. Personally, Canada himself was on that train at one point in the beginning, but had hopped off somewhere around the release of the fourth game, having lost interest in it once he fully realized the game wouldn't get any different no matter how many new creatures. Sadly, everyone was obsessed with it and often caught them battling, trading, or whatever it is they did with each other under the table during World Meetings.

(Even England could be found partaking in the game, but Canada had a leading suspicion that he only liked it since he believed in faeries and whatnot.)

"You look really dorky," America said enthusiastically with a toothy smile.

"Thanks," Canada deadpanned, not even bothering to remind his dear brother that they were practically twins.

"Uh huh," He hummed, seemingly ignorant of Canada's tone, "and I'd be a Charizard since I'm hot."

Rolling his eyes at the other's enormous ego, Canada figured that was the end of their conversation and leaned forward to snatch up the New York Times when America's hand captured his wrist. Only catching a side glance of the DS on the coffee table, Canada turned his head to give his brother a well deserved glare but froze when he found America's face close to his own or closer than what it was at before.

"You know why else I'd be a Charizard?" America's usually fast speech slowed down and it was almost painful to the Canadian's ears. He was then being pushed down roughly in to the cushions of the American's couch and Canada knew his breath had hitched considerably and that he let out a squeak when the other's solid chest was pressed firmly against his own. "Aside from being hot, you're water and you know what that means, right?" He whispered hotly and Canada found that he was wondering when America's mouth had gotten so close to his ear.

Squirming uncomfortably and swallowing thickly, Canada felt his face burn that of a thousand suns and knew he shouldn't be feeling anticipated at what his brother was doing or going to, at least. Where was this all coming from anyways? Was his game getting him that excited?

"You get me wet."

Mon Dieu, Canada's head screamed defiantly in his native tongue.

Everything seemed like a blur to Canada then as he felt the other's warm organ against his earlobe and hands that were selfishly tearing at his dress shirt to get it out from where it was tucked in. Then there was the way America had his long legs straddling the smaller man, occasionally moving his hips down at Canada in a teasing way that caused him to wonder how crazy he'd go before it would stop. All Canada could find himself to do was dig the back of his head against the arm of the chair, toss his hands in to the tangle of limbs, and let out small noises that were a cross breed of aggravation and lust.

"Matt," America summoned a growl from the back of his throat, his breath blowing against said person's neck, "I've wanted you for so long."

Canada wanted to protest then and tell him that he should've said something sooner, but was cut off by America wanting to prove his words by mashing their moist lips together, wasting no time in shoving his fleshy, pink tongue in the other's mouth, humming pleasantly almost immediately at contact. Following shortly, America had finally got that defiant shirt up and snaked his hands in, going to Canada's back, pulling his chest closer to his own.

Through the tension, Canada managed to reclaim his lips from America's greedy take over and said his name, his voice cracking when a particularly sensitive spot at the underside of his jaw was being chewed at during America's exploration of the Canadian's neck. Much to Canada's satisfaction and let down, America slowed his pace shortly afterwards and settled with inhaling the other's scent of vanilla and winter.

"God," America sighed lustfully, "I love it when you say my name."

At this point, Canada had relaxed in to their compromising position and came to terms they'd more than likely stay like that when a strong pounding came from the front door that was followed shortly by the all too familiar voice. "Git, where are you? The Frog and I came to play that bloody game you're hell bent on!"

It was also at this point that Canada knew he was screwed when America was all too happy to call the two in to the living room where they resided despite their position. As to save his own butt, America was shoved to the floor and Canada was scrambling to his feet, trying to tuck his shirt back in and straighten out his hair but failing miserably with what short notice he had.

Though, when England entered the room, blabbering about nonsense and just stopped everything when his jaded eyes were locked on to Canadian's disheveled appearance, Canada found himself cursing his constant wish of being acknowledged by his peers.

"Hey guys!" America greeted casually, slinging a dangly arm casually over his brother's tense shoulders.

France then not-so-discreetly pointed at his own neck, his eyes dancing in amusement and his lip twitching upward when Canada realized that America must've left a hickey somewhere. When the Canadian felt his face once again burn up like a Charizard's flame, he promptly went to shove America away who simply graced him with that obnoxious laugh of his.

("Oh hon oh, mon petit Matthieu a trouvé l'amour.")