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Sweet Devil

AN: Ok, so I decided to give in and do MY version of Sweet Devil. The actual lyrics of the song almost have nothing to do with the fic. So, this fic CONTAINS HOMOSEXUAL CONTENT. That is TWO MEN LOVING EACHOTHER. If you do not like the pairing USUK, then I suggest you don't read. There is also a very strong possibility that this will become… err… somewhat graphic in later chapters, hence the Mature rating. But I promise nothing because I get rather shy in that regard. Anyway, those of you who actually WANT to read it, Enjoy! OwO

Also, pardon Scotland's thick accent in the beginning.

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This Is A Slash Fiction

You Have Been Warned

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"Whi' th' hell dae ye need a lock ay Kelpie's mane fer?" The Scotsman shouted at his younger brother who had so rudely intruded his house demanding supplies. The pair did everything in their power to avoid eachother, so it was nearly unheard of for one to invade the other's house. Well, it really didn't matter how often it happened, seeing as it was happening now. Not only that, but the little Englishman was outright demanding a mystical ingredient that was only ever used in some of the oldest of ancient spells. The ingredient itself was rather perilous to collect unless you had a Loch Ness monster at your disposal who had no qualms snatching up a Kelpie and keeping it still for you to clip off a strand of soggy, slimy hair.

"I'll pay you." Arthur had squared off his shoulders, not to be intimidated by his older and brasher brother. The blonde dreaded visiting his brother. It was bad enough he was present during World Conferences. To say they didn't get along well was like saying Black Beard had been a disrespectable chap.

"Ah dinnae wan' yer money." The Scot shot dryly, walking deeper into his sitting room. He pushed a bookshelf aside to access the hidden store room behind it. He shuffled through a few jars and vials until he found what he was looking for. The redhead turned around and held out a vial. Within the vial was a green hued chunk of slimy hair suspended in water. When the Englishman reached out to take it, Maverick snatched it out of his reach. "Noo, whi' dae ye wan' i' fer?"

Arthur's green eyes blazed angrily when the vial was pulled away before he could even lay a finger on it. He held his anger in with a rigid stance and tightened fists. Exhaling a tense sigh, he spoke, "A spell."

"Nae, really?" The redhead feigned surprise then swatted his brother upside the head. "Whi' spell, ye feckin' bampo'!"

This seemed to test Arthur's patience to its limits, and yet he still remained calm. For the most part. His jaw was clenched and his eyes burned with hatred. It was hard to tell if the flush on his cheeks was from anger or embarrassment. Perhaps both. "I want…" he gritted out. "to alter my feelings towards someone."

The Scot's thick brows shot up in surprise. This surprise gave Arthur the chance to snatch the vial away from the taller country. However, before the smaller Brit could get too far, the Scot spoke up, "Ye ken, those spells can be pure dangerous. If ye dinnae truly mean whi' ye wan' 'em tae dae, they can ha'e dire effec's."

"You think I don't know that?" England shot back defensively and turned away from his brother. "As if you really care what happens to me! Bugger off!" He stormed out the door, leaving Scotland still staring in mild surprise.

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England was dressed in his robes, standing on runes pattered in the floor surrounded by candles. In the center of the alchemic circle was the powdered mixture in a small mortar. It'd all been ground together with the pestle that was lying off to the side. He dropped a strand of his own hair into the powder and took a deep breath. Opening the spellbook to the dog-eared page, he began reading the spell aloud. Magic picked up and glittered around the circle. The runes all glowed and took to the air, spinning around the centre.

Arthur closed his eyes tight. All he could ever see was Alfred. His heart panged every time the stupid American walked into the room or when he heard his voice or someone mentioned his name. The more time that passed, the stronger that heartache seemed to grow. He hated it. Hated the feeling, hated how, when his mind would drift, he'd find himself thinking about the stupid American. The American that left him. How had this turned into an obsession? Hell, when had it even turned into a crush? No, he needed to rid these useless emotions so he could move on.

The final words of the spell were out and he steeled himself to be freed of this wretched curse cast on him by the blue eyed blonde. But as he opened his eyes and looked up, his cellar door opened and Alfred stepped into the room, blinking dumbly at the scene before him. Oh… there was that feeling again. Arthur blushed as his heart skipped a beat and dared to even flutter. Well, that feeling wasn't so bad… Almost made him feel like he was drifting on a cloud. What had he done? Did he really want to remove these feelings?

"Arty…?" Alfred asked, but those blue eyes widened when the rush of magic speared towards Arthur's chest. "Arthur!" Alfred dashed forward in a desperate attempt to save England from whatever painful death that spear of magic had in store for him. He threw his arms out, lunging at Arthur in an awkward tackle trying to knock him out of the way. Instead, the spear of magic shot through both countries like an arrow, leaving them unconscious in a heap on the floor.

And that was when their world changed.

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"Idiot! What the hell was that thing anyway? It could've killed you! I don't know what I would've done if it'd…" Alfred looked down at his hands. Judging by the clock, they estimated they'd been out for a good two hours. Now, Alfred was sitting on the couch and Arthur was making tea for both of them. "If you felt that way, you should'a said something, dumbass." The blonde pouted. "Not done something stupid like that."

"I said I was sorry." Arthur walked out into the sitting room and set the trey down on the table, urging Alfred to take one of the cups. "Extra sugar and honey, just how you like it. …how you used to like it."

Alfred ignored the tea and looked up sternly. Those innocent, naïve blue eyes were hard and serious. It was an expression the young nation rarely ever wore. "Did it work?" When Arthur just stared blankly at him, he clarified. "Your dumb spell. Did it work?"

"Alfred…" Arthur sat down next to him and sipped his tea before continuing. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. It matters to me." That look still hardened those ocean blue eyes. Arthur thought that he even detected hidden pain behind them. Or was he just being hopeful?

"If you must know, no. It didn't work." But as soon as those words left his mouth, eyes closed, ready to take another sip of tea, there was a set of warm lips against his. Arthur's eyes popped open in surprise to find Alfred kissing him. His heart warmed his entire body. A tingling sense of near euphoria at just the simple kiss. No, it wasn't so simple. It was the knowing that Alfred returned his feelings. Either that, or this was a very bad joke. He was almost embarrassed to feel that warming sensation pooling between his thighs. Had it really been that long since he'd been with someone that his body would react so instantly to such a basic sign of affection? No wait. That wasn't the right sort of warming… Suddenly it was scalding! Too hot! What the blazes—?

Arthur had to shove Alfred back with a yelp of pain as the hot tea soaked into his pants and burned his skin. In the flustered moment of shock, he'd forgotten he was even holding the cup. Alfred quickly spotted what was ailing the Englishman and snatched up the nearest cloth trying to blot the spreading liquid from Arthur's pants before it could cause any more damage. This, however, was rather awkward. Something he didn't realize until his hands were already pressed firmly into Arthur's lap. He watched the blonde's cheeks burn just as red as he was sure his own were.

"Alfred! S-stop, you git!"

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"Still a klutz and a fool!" Arthur chastised as he came down the stairs in a fresh change of clothing. Alfred couldn't help but notice his cheeks were still a little flushed.

"Hey, I said I was sorry. I just—" Arthur held up a hand to silence him.

"It will be a most memorable first kiss, won't it?" Arthur dared a very small amused smirk that seemed to relax Alfred instantly. The little American, who had been sitting up tense in his seat, sunk back into the cushions and smiled goofily. "Now, that will certainly be enough of that. It is getting late. If you don't have prior arrangements, you're welcome to stay here for the night." Arthur's cheeks flushed and he quickly added, "Your old room is still furnished."

Alfred grinned and whipped out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial and waited for the other end to answer. "Yeah, this is Alfred F. Jones. I reserved a room earlier today." There was a pause as Alfred listened to the other end. "Uh-huh. That's me. Yeah, I wanna cancel my reservation. Sorry, dude." There was another pause and Alfred huffed. "Yeah, yeah. I know you don't give refunds. Just free up the room, 's all I'm sayin'." Again, Alfred listened to the other man on the line talk. "Thanks dude." And ended the call.

England watched almost adoringly as America cancelled his reservations just for him. That spread another surge of warmth through his heart. He was almost glad he'd attempted that spell. If he hadn't, it was very likely he never would have learned that Alfred returned his affections. It still didn't make much sense to him, and seemed almost surreal, but right now, he was happy to live in this little dream world. If it was a dream, maybe he could just stay here forever and never wake up.

"Uh, hey, Arty…?" Alfred began, drawing Arthur from his thoughts. The green eyed Brit looked up and blinked. "So… if that spell thing didn't do what it was supposed to do, and I'm not sayin' I'm buying into your whole magic stuff, but… well… what did it do?"

Oh, and this was a very good question. Because the spell seemed to act like it did something. But there were so many unaccountable variables. Alfred interfering. His doubt just before the spell was finalized. The fact that it struck both himself and Alfred. The spell was one of ancient magic. It had almost certainly done something. Older magics of that nature never did nothing. That was one thing about ancient spells. They were reliable in that they would always do something, even if it wasn't what was meant to be done.

"I can honestly say, I haven't a clue." Arthur admitted.

Alfred seemed to contemplate that for only a brief moment before his face contorted in pain and he whined. "I'm starving. C'mon, I'll take you out to eat!"

"As if you have a card on you that we take here." Arthur smirked, standing up from the couch and tugged his coat from the rack. "Besides, the gentleman always buys dinner for his date." He escorted Alfred out the door.

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Alfred and Arthur crashed through the door after their ride home from dinner. The American was dominating the Englishman in a powerful kiss as the pair groped and clung to eachother. Alfred barely got the door kicked closed as he shoved Arthur down to the sofa, but the slightly smaller male was fighting him a bit. It wasn't until he tasted blood that he pulled away. Alfred touched his tongue to a fang in his own mouth, brows knitting together. As he looked down at Arthur, the blonde was looking up almost horrified with a stream of blood trailing down his nicked lip. The small growl in the back of his own throat shocked even himself, but he couldn't resist the uncontrollable urge to suck up that spilled blood until Arthur pushed him away.

"Alfred, your hair… and you've fangs." England was breathless and trying desperately to compose himself.

"Really? We're gonna discuss my hair at a time like this? Shut up and enjoy this, Angel." Alfred growled, leaning forward again to continue where he'd left off, but to his shock, England had pulled a wand and small pouch from his vest pocket. The blonde kicked America back and threw the pouch's contents at the now black haired American. He pointed the star-tipped wand in his direction.

"Expel, demon!"

Alfred's body pulsed before a figure was torn from his own form, leaving the blonde standing there, dazed and confused. The blonde-again Alfred dropped to his hands and knees panting as another figure floated inches off the ground. The creature in the air resembled Alfred identically save for the hair black as night, fangs, horns, a pointed tail, and bat-like demonic wings. His wardrobe was colored almost inverted of Alfred's. Both blondes were staring at this demonic image of America in a mixture of awe and confusion.

TBC…