Incentive with a Sun
I DO NOT OWN HETALIA: AXIS POWERS
For Goes to 11
She wakes to the sun.
Not fully awake (she enjoyed sleep even more than he did) of course, but stayed in the teetering bridge between dreams and slow moving reality. Burying herself into the blankets, she ignores the familiar sound of his swift breathing,opposite to hers that was long and steady. His weight is all too familiar and she kicks his hand in annoyance as he plays with the blanket at the edge of the bed.
"G'awy," Madeline mutters. It was Sunday and to top off her own annoyances, he had entered her room without permission.
Even so, she was too drowsy to do anything about it.
She kicks again when his finger trails up and down the sole of her foot only to be met with empty air.
Always moving. She thinks and reminds herself to hit him later, though a part of her isn't complaining about his new weight on her bed, long legs spread out in front of him.
Near palpable irritation runs through their link and Alfred chuckles, a low tremor of contentment that goes through her like lightening and makes her want to laugh as well.
Her hand shoot out to hit him, only to find empty air once more and he's moved- along with the blankets.
Something in her is close to snapping if her limbs weren't so heavy.
America finds it adorable when she's frustrated at him so early in the morning, running his fingers through the long, messy blond hair of his twin.
She finds herself leaning into the feeling out of pure instinct. He had been warmth to her since they were in the womb. His hand moves and she whines, hand finally finding a solid part of him and curling up closer, her knees digging into his side, not that he minded the closeness. Her brow scrunches in irritation as his feet keep moving, one hand moving to smooth over his knee.
Back to earth, flyboy.
The reminder is enough without tangible words spilt out into the world and she's almost ready to forgive him before he whispers the words against her forehead, breath cool against her skin.
"Are you planning on sleeping all day, Maddie?" he says softly, feigning shock.
She cracks open one violet eye, voice heavy with sleep and sarcasm. "Oh yes, I forgot it was your job to be the one to sit on his ass all day. My mistake."
She ignores his arm squeezing around her waist as a warning-the action itself being a kind of oxymoron- as his fingers waved a white soft object in her face.
Canada raises a questioning eyebrow, fingers brushing over the long stem of the rose. "Have you been taking my flowers?"
He grins that lopsided grin of his, all blue sky and sunshine and responds with another kiss pressed into her hair. Does it matter?
You know, for someone who's as big on honor as you are, this is a pretty low move.
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at that. "Care to elaborate on that, Miss Williams?"
"I shall indeed, Mr. Jones. I, being the sole proprietor and caretaker of these company of roses mentioned, possess the authority to give select individuals the right to take part of caretaking of said conservatory; of actions, of course, that I deem fit for the longevity of such delicate and fragile plant life. Now, as I recall, I did not extend that desire of assistance to you in any way, shape, or form. But, as seen by the life cut away by your own hands, you seem to have extended that liberty upon yourself without my knowledge or an inkling of my needing you to do so. So, to cut the ramble short, I don't think I'll be able to forgive you for this." Canada gives her brother a smirk. America grasps the rose from his sister's fingers, twirling it in his fingers and not even wincing at the way the thorns pricked at his skin. He sets it on the beside table.
"And is there nothing I might do to grant your pardon?" America asks.
Madeline only hums. "Your incentives, albeit, were kind, but," she gives him a this is the reality of the situation kind of gaze, "they came to less than favorable outcomes. You'll have to find a better motive for my forgiveness." She turns away from him then, arms folded across her chest and pulling the blankets back over herself.
America smirks. Challenge accepted then.
Exactly five and a half seconds pass before he speaks again, fingers playing the fabric of his pajama pants. "Well, that's a shame. However, Madeline, you know me. And you know my ways of solving things are quite...unorthodox."
He wouldn't dare.
"Really. And unfortunately for you," his hand has already moved back the blankets, "we have a problem that needs fixing."
Madeline raises up her hands in defense. "Alfred, don't you dare-"
Before she knows it, his fingers are dancing along her stomach and ribs and she tries to fight the laughter bubbling up inside of her but it spills out in a glorious sound one after the other. Her feet kick against his stomach, but to no avail and she tries desperately to get away from his childish actions, the laughter making her stomach hurt.
"Stop! I swear to God- okay, okay! You're forgiven!"
As soon as he lets up, she takes the opportunity to grab the nearest pillow and slam it against the side of his face, almost sending his head cracking against her headboard. America smiles, running a hand through his messy hair while she scowls at him.
"Not funny," she snaps, though the action itself woke her up fully for the day. America shrugs, arms shooting out to wrap around her waist when she made leave to get out of her bed. She grumbles at the action, though it's comforting to say the least how easily they fit. Her head finds its way between his chin and chest, his heartbeat against her ear. "You're stupid."
"What else is new?"
"You're such a baby sometimes," Madeline mutters. The remark is half to herself and half to him, but it didn't really matter.
"I doubt a baby like me would know how to use such cleaver tactics, sis."
She scoffs. "Tickling your enemy into submission? Yes, I'm sure that'll hold up at the next Security Council."
"Incentive, Maddie." He unhooks his arms from around her, moving to get up off the bed. She runs a hand through her hair in exasperation, watching her flyboy bounce up and down on the bed, legs crossed underneath him. "Reason for roses: Barging into here, obviously." He tumbles off of the bed with the grace of a puppy, reappearing at her side of the bed. His fingers brush along her cheekbone. "Seeing you laugh makes my day worthwhile." His fingers brush a lock of hair behind her ear.
It doesn't go unnoticed how his fingers rub her blond lock between his digits.
"And," America presses a kiss to her forehead, before heading out the door. "I want pancakes."
Yeah, guys, North America siblings. Gotta love them. Also sibling cuddles and forehead kisses. #lifegoalsbesiderulingtheworld
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