[Fic] Lilies, Leaves and Weeds Chapter 3

[deegeeak]

Later Gilbert would always be surprised at how easy it had been.

Matt for his part seemed rather pleased at the thought of having someone of his own to pamper - and Gilbert was only too happy to oblige. Although Matt had a romantic streak as wide as his entire landmass, he was also an Imperial Lion.

And that meant he was a really strict son of a bitch.

Gilbert had only had to cross a line once. The ensuing punishment (he'd gotten spanked. Spanked! And not in a good way either), was made worse by Matt's sleeping on the couch and all but ignoring him till he begged forgiveness. The makeup sex had been…inspired. Neither one of them had gotten out of bed the next day, and his nerves had tingled pleasantly for a week afterward.

Gilbert was constantly surprised by his new dom. Matt liked doing the taking as much as he liked being taken, but although he might sometimes physically bottom for Gilbert, they both knew very well who was in charge and it wasn't Gilbert. Gil had never expected to be the one Collared, but damn if it didn't feel right.

The night Everything Got Awesome, as Gilbert put it to everyone later, started off normal enough. Matthew had been pushing Gilbert into spending more time mending his relations with Ludwig. So he split his time between Europe and Canada, flying back and forth between the two. He spent his time in Europe helping his brother, getting drunk with England, and generally annoying everyone else he came into contact with. He'd just flown back from Germany on a shockingly clear and cold night. As the cabbie drove him to Matt's cabin he couldn't help but notice how dark the sky was and how the stars shown like the diamonds Matt's northern Providences and territories dug up.

There was a note on the door. He plucked it off the wood and silently read it, standing in the light coming from inside. He smiled and let himself in. ‘There's a robe in the entry for you’, the note read. ‘Put it on and follow the candles.’ Once he was inside with the door firmly locked, he shucked his clothes and donned the fluffy robe.

Small tea-lights set in glasses of all sorts of shapes and colors directed him towards the huge 'great room' of the cabin. His jaw dropped. Matt had certainly been a busy bee while he was gone. The room now extended out to cover part of the former deck. Hand carved pine boards stretched out under a thick brown rug. As his feet took him further into the room, he noticed that the rustic maple paneling along the wall still gleamed wetly as if it'd only recently been painted.

(If Gilbert knew Matthew at all, and at this point he felt he did quite well, then all of it, or at least as much as Matthew could do, had been hand crafted. He'd've selected the trees, cut them, shaped the wood, and done the actual building himself. He wasn't totally sure why, but Matthew, Alfred and most of their respective brats put a lot of stock into making as much for themselves as they could. Including, as he was now well aware, sex toys. Hell, Matt had made a set of rather stunning dildos just for him. When he’d given them to him, Matt told him that he 'trusted something made with his own hands more than anything else' and that it 'felt good knowing Gilbert was using something made by him'. The weirdo.)

Moving deeper into the great room he finally crossed out onto the old porch. It still overlooked the small incline that led to the lake, but now it was enclosed with more of the maple paneling. Part of the wall leading up to the ceiling was formed out of clear glass blocks and there was a huge window set on top of them. The new roof had two skylights in it, open to let some of the heat from inside drift up and out into the winter night. You could sit there and star gaze for hours, he realized.

All that aside, it was the giant cedar hot tube dominating the new addition that caught his eye. Or rather, it was the naked blond sitting in the giant hot tub that caught his eye. Matthew smirked at him over his glass. Gilbert knew it wasn't anything alcoholic* - maybe some of Matt's spiced cider?

Gilbert walked over, hyper aware of the decreasing distance between them. Matthew snorted when he hesitated at the edge of the tub. "Get in. Water's perfect, even for you."

It was too. They sat in peaceful silence side by side as the stars danced before them in the night's sky. Matt handed him a glass after a bit. It was the spiced cider he'd helped make in the fall.

"Hey," Gilbert said, "look at that."

Across the sky, ribbons of green, purple, and blue danced and twirled, illuminating the distant mountains in a riot of colors. Gilbert leaned forward and tilted his head, trying to catch more of the faint sounds he could barely hear. He was surprised when an arm reached across his shoulders and pulled him in tightly to Matt’s body. When he looked up, the other nation was almost glaring out at the sky.

"Hey, what's up, Matt?"

To his surprise, the other blushed and looked away. "Awww, c'mon. Tell awesome me!" After a few minutes of dedicated pestering, he got his answer.

"It's just. There's this old legend. Really old, older than me. The Auroras , they're spirits, see?" Matthew explained. "They're spirits playing in the sky, and if they can catch you they take you away."**

Gilbert sort of blinked at that one. "Okay?"

Matt huffed and dragged him closer. "You're mine. And I'm not sharing you with anyone, not even Aurora spirits."

Deep within him, Gilbert could feel a rather unsettling mix of affection and attraction for the North American welling up. That mix was telling him to lean into the (amazingly toned) chest he was pressed against and promise this man everything. He settled for grinning. "Well my sexy ass isn't going anywhere!"

Mollified by that, Matthew relaxed his grip again. "Hey, close your eyes and open your mouth." Oh, the dom voice was out. Deliberately, Gilbert did as he was bidden, but stuck his tongue out. Instead of the expected gag, or even Matthew, he got a mouthful of fluffy pancakes and maple syrup. He kept his eyes closed as Matthew carefully fed him. Gilbert was aware there had to be a dopey look on his face, but why the hell shouldn’t there be? This?

This was Awesome.

Getting pampered like this was amazing, and he knew Matthew genuinely enjoyed being able to fuss over someone without getting fussed at. And really, he liked getting pampered. At his age, he figured he deserved it. As the pancakes dwindled and the cider started to run low, Gilbert could feel the edges of his world go warm and fuzzy, the soft quietness settling in around him in a warm curl of pleasure.

"I've got one last thing for you Gil," his dom murmured in his ear. Gil opened his eyes. Damn, had he forgotten his own birthday or something? Hot tub, wet Matt, pancakes in hot tub with wet Matt, and a surprise? "C'mon lazybones, out you get," Matthew said, pulling him out of the blissfully warm tub.

Once he was out and wrapped back up, Matthew led him to the fireplace and they settled down on the couch. Well this wasn't bad, even if his soft fuzziness was almost gone. He was all for cuddling. Especially since cuddling tended to lead to sex. And sex in front of a fireplace was Awesome. Matthew nosed at his neck. "Here."

'Here' was a carved wooden box. "Matt," he began unsure of where to start. Fuck, Matt took care of him, gave him so much - had given himself back, what more could he be given without doing some giving of his own? He'd learned he had to give back during those cold years under Ivan.

"Just… just open it ok?"

He did, and years later he could still remember the shock. Nestled against the green plaid (which looked suspiciously like that old shirt he kept 'borrowing'), was a Collar. He touched one of the links carefully. The Collar was interlocking links of white frosted gold and ivory. There was a design carved into one of the ivory links at the front. He looked closer. A Maple leaf and an Imperial eagle entwined together.

His heart stopped.

"Gilbert? Oh fuck, Gilbert, it's ok, you don't have to, I just, fuck. Gilbert, talk to me," Matthew's voice was coming in from a distance and sounded sort of panicked.

"Ok."

"O-oh-okay?" Matthew, his brain told him, had just gone very still.

"Ok, put it on me," he gulped. This was It. They were Serious now.

Matthew's look of love and relief was blinding as both of them shakily got on their knees. Gilbert tilted his head back, exposing his throat to Matthew's warm hands. The Collar was cool at first, then slowly warmed to his body temperature.

"Oh, oh fuck Gilbert, you look so..." The Canadian trailed off, staring at him. He shrugged the robe off as best he could and smirked.

"Awesome?"

Matt's eyes went dark at the display he was putting on and he pounced. They never made it to bed.

Gilbert ran his fingers over his Collar, remembering. That had been a most excellent night, and he wondered if they could have a repeat of it tonight in Matt's hotel room. He leered at Matthew, who was pretending to not stare at him and to be paying rapt attention to his brother's presentation on declining fish populations.

"Bruder," Ludwig suddenly hissed in his ear, "stop this now!"

Gilbert slouched down in his chair. Matthew's eyes flicked back to him and Gilbert sat up again.

Closet? The albino nation mouthed.

Matt nodded in agreement, but was caught by Alfred.

"See! Matthew agrees with me that we need to have giant fish robots!"

Gilbert watched, nearly dying of laughter, as Matt's head snapped around with a look of horror. "What the fuck, eh?"

Matthew knew, he understood, that Gilbert wasn't really just a sub, just as he knew that Gilbert wasn't just a dom. Lovely, snarky, all his, Gilbert was a switch at heart, and Matthew feared losing him. Feared was putting it politely - he was almost terrified of the thought. He tried his best to fulfill Gilbert's every need, but the one time he'd tried to let Gilbert take control, it had been an unmitigated disaster. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of the state he’d found Francis in, during the war, and he had gone, as his lover put it, zombie.

That wasn't to say he didn't bottom for Gilbert. Oh no. There was joy to be had in tying Gil to the bed, or chair, or even to himself, and easing his own body down on the German’s and riding him as Gil thrashed and bucked beneath him. In fact, Matthew sort of enjoyed it, as it left his own hands free for all sorts of interesting fun things. But even then he was in control of the situation, languidly wrenching out desperate German words and broken phrases in forgotten Latin.

Gilbert had the desire to dom, and Matthew couldn't give it to him. Gilbert was still in his bed, still wore his collar, but Matthew could feel a part of his love slipping away.

He wondered if Gilbert ever felt it.

That night they lay curled up in the huge bed in their bedroom. Gil was sprawled, sated, on flannel sheets, panting. Bright red bite marks decorated his chest, and Matthew gently washed away the sweat and cum from Gil's chest. Tonight had been one of those nights where Matthew had evidently decided to glut himself on Gilbert.

It had been oh so good. He felt his hands being freed and stretched out like a cat. He could feel the ache of where Matthew had turned his ass red distantly - he'd no doubt feel it more later. But right now it was a pleasant thrum in his blood, luring him down into quiet stillness. A thought floated up through the haze in his brain - could he get another round?

Matthew chuckled down at him with a fond kiss to the forehead. "Gil, enough - your plane leaves in a few hours."

Oh, that's right. He had to go back to Germany and help his little brother handle the elections. And wonderful Antonio had demanded the original bad boys of Europe go out drinking. He wondered if France would finally make an appearance or if he'd beg off again. He wasn't really looking forward to seeing France for the first time since the end of the War.

Next to him, Matthew was starting to look concerned. He must have done something, because the next thing he knew Matthew was clucking over him, running his hand down the slowly fading marks, checking for anything out of place. "Gil?"

Better to get it out, rather than try and hide it. "Antonio invited us all out drinking," he said finally, choosing his words with care. "Something about reliving our glory days or something."

Matthew hummed, his hands going from a concerned search for pain to a reassuring stroke. "Worried, eh?"

Gil shrugged. He touched his Collar, all his, telling the world he belonged and was cherished. "West'll have kittens for sure."

Matthew's snort ruffled his hair. "I just bet," he said dryly, aware of what was being attempted. "We'll take it as it comes."

"Mmm..." Just as sleep started to creep up on him, he heard a soft question coming from the other nation. "Sometimes," he muttered in response. "Love you both."

He didn't feel Matthew go tense and unhappy.

Matthew had been careless, so much so that he'd walked in on one of his territories wrapped up in and around two others. He'd been so tired, so exhausted from the politics, from the oh-so-polite sneers and worrying that he wasn't enough for Gilbert that he'd forgotten entirely the providence had asked to borrow the cabin. He stopped and stared for a moment, and honestly, he'd've been surprised if he hadn’t been so fucking tired.

The Yukon's muddy blond hair mixed with Kamchatka's white hair and all of it rested on Alaska's arctic pale skin. One on each side of the American state, mimicking their own land masses. A river to bind one, a sea the other and yet none were tied together but for their own wants. The sight of the three not-countries curled in front of the fire place he'd carefully laid was a jolt. For a wild moment he wondered what it would be like being back in their place - not yet a nation, trapped beneath the weight of a larger nation, free to do anything but be free.

He backed out of the room and crept for the door, knowing even as he did so that Yukon was waking up in response to feeling Matthew so close by. He didn't really feel like talking to the too knowing territory, not when he was choking with want from what he couldn't, shouldn't need.

The calm serenity in the room was unnerving. When he was in their position, a maybe-not-ever-country, often forgotten, and too lonely, he'd spent his days feeling either dread or barely concealed horror. He'd never known when his sovereign nation might take a special interest in him beyond his five years service. When Arthur had finally given him his freedom, he'd sworn to never treat his would-bes, his maybe-one-days, like he had been treated.

(Alfred, Matthew knew, encouraged free spirit and a laughing liberty in his states - to an extent. His word was the last when it came to the fifty brats and they all knew it. The idea of collaring his states had likely never even occurred to him, not even after the civil war. Matthew wasn't sure, but he didn’t think he'd ever seen a collar on any of the Russian federal subjects. In fact, Ivan had been one of the few nations to protest, to the British Empire's face, his solution for dealing with potential rebellion. What had been said he wasn't sure, but Arthur and Ivan had spent a day yelling at each other in that London drawing room over the issue.)

The door opened behind him and Yukon stepped out onto the front porch. "You didn't need to get up," Matthew said softly. "I was just leaving." His words puffed out into the air - the same air he'd just sent Gilbert off in to face his brother, face Francis. He'd let his Gilbert board the plane, all the while pretending this was all right, that he was okay with Gilbert facing Europe alone, when he absolutely fucking wasn't.

He still wanted to race back to the airport and seize Gilbert, haul him away from the rest of the world and never let him go. But that wasn't fair, it wasn't right and Matthew knew it. For all that Gilbert wore his Collar, Matthew knew there were some things that the German had to do by himself.

"You're upset."

How was it that this territory, the far one, the one who felt most comfortable in the wilds and strange places of Canada, could so accurately pinpoint his emotions? It'd be a lot more helpful if, oh, Ontario could do so. Or Quebec. "Not at you," he admitted.

There were sounds of movement in the house. He could hear Alaska's high clear voice whispering to Kamchatka, who responded in a deep rumble.

"It works, you know," Yukon finally said. "Don't rightly know how, or why, but it does."

Matthew tried not to jerk. Next to him the territory kept going. "Two's strong, but three's the magic number, or so Alaska says. Three's stable and," here was one of those shrugs that said everything and nothing in one movement, "and stable's good."

Matthew tried not to think about what he was being told, but the images he'd been fighting since Gilbert had unwittingly muttered his own thoughts back at him kept drifting back. Gilbert and Francis entwined in his arms, him wrapped in theirs. There'd been peace in the three non-nation's slumber and he thought about how perfect it would be if Gilbert, his sudden love, and Francis, his always love, could share that sort of rest with him.

"Come back inside. Kam brought smoked salmon, and Ala brought Birch Syrup. What do you say to getting an early breakfast, eh?"

And that was how it got started. Matthew spent the rest of his three day holiday laughing as Alaska chased Yukon around the table, waving a wooden spoon and yelling as Kamtchaka sat back and shared his tea with Matthew. He got a crash course in threesomes - not the actual mechanics of it, no, but the play between the three. He saw how easy it could be to hurt one another, and yet how simple it was to not do so.

He spent another day or so with his territory discussing plans and plotting before heading back home to put it all in motion.

He hoped this was the right thing to do.

Safety Matthew Says: Don't Drink and Hot Tub in the Cold. Instead, have a soda and stay alive! Sorta like Safety Tino says: Don't Drink and Sauna.

This is the really, really tame version of the tale. In the story gleefully told to all the younger kids at the bus stops (at least where I'm from) the Aura Borealis (Northern Lights) is made up of wild spirit folks, or the dead, and sometimes the Fey, Other People. The story is this: when the Borealis is out, the Others are out playing ball, but the ball is made up of the heads of all the people they catch. The ones who get caught are the foolish young, the evildoers, the ones who don't listen to the elders. As you can imagine, this told gleefully to a freaked out kid, at a cold, dark school bus stop, can be very freaky, especially if it's cold and quiet enough for you to hear the Borealis. The sound is often a clicky, almost electronic sound made of snaps and cracks.