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deegeeakTitle: In Which America Comes to Terms With His Possessiveness Over Canada
Pairing: America, Canada
Genre: I have no idea? Kink-Meme de-anon.
Rating: Pg17
Summary: Exactly what the title says. Or, Canada wears a collar and America gets hot and bothered but isn't sure if this a good thing or not.
Notes: The first title for this was "In Which America comes to Terms with His Possessiveness Over Canada or Under as the Case May Be." It was a bit long.
It should sicken him. He ought to march over there and rip it off, and then he doesn't quite know what he'll do. Burn it?
He'll do something to it. Just what is still something he's trying to decide. That's not the only thing he's trying to decide.
"I don't care - Canada's a big boy," he tells his mirror in the morning. America can't rip his eyes off Canada's neck from the moment he sees his brother standing by the car, waiting to carpool to the meeting. It's so not Canada, but at the same time it is.
"It's not like it bothers me," he lies to his burger at lunch. He plasters a fake smile on his face when the Netherlands joins him and Canada for lunch. He ends up adverting his eyes lest they give him away when Canada's pulled into a quick kiss.
"Why not me," he whispers in the very darkest part of night, just before dawn. That collar is stuck in his imagination, all thick, supple leather. He imagines it smells like a mix of Canada, sweat and leather. It's an intoxicating mixture in his imagination, and he figures it's got to be at least 100 times better in reality.
America's always loved Canada in leather, be it gloves, jacket or anything really. He's daydreamed about one day confessing to Canada - in most of them feature Canada wearing his RCMP leather boots.
And America's jacket.
And not much else.
Up till now he's chosen to not to think about what that means, that he likes getting off to his brother wearing boots, his jacket and nothing else. Tony tells him that he's got issues when America spends a night trying to figure out if he can steal that stupid fucking collar away. Maybe keep it in his sock drawer or something, where he can haul it out on lonely nights and just smell his brother - it'd be the next best thing to having Canada right there after all. America knows he's got issues. Every nation has issues before long, some of them are obvious, like England's drinking, Spain's pretending and France's need for attention.
America's just mostly focus around Canada.
And um. Yea. Just Canada.
It's at this point, at 6am, just as the sun's rising that America accepts he has a problem with his brother's wearing of a collar.
"Fuck," he says to the wall. "I'm so screwed."
Pairing: America, Canada
Genre: I have no idea? Kink-Meme de-anon.
Rating: Pg17
Summary: Exactly what the title says. Or, Canada wears a collar and America gets hot and bothered but isn't sure if this a good thing or not.
Notes: The first title for this was "In Which America comes to Terms with His Possessiveness Over Canada or Under as the Case May Be." It was a bit long.
It should sicken him. He ought to march over there and rip it off, and then he doesn't quite know what he'll do. Burn it?
He'll do something to it. Just what is still something he's trying to decide. That's not the only thing he's trying to decide.
"I don't care - Canada's a big boy," he tells his mirror in the morning. America can't rip his eyes off Canada's neck from the moment he sees his brother standing by the car, waiting to carpool to the meeting. It's so not Canada, but at the same time it is.
"It's not like it bothers me," he lies to his burger at lunch. He plasters a fake smile on his face when the Netherlands joins him and Canada for lunch. He ends up adverting his eyes lest they give him away when Canada's pulled into a quick kiss.
"Why not me," he whispers in the very darkest part of night, just before dawn. That collar is stuck in his imagination, all thick, supple leather. He imagines it smells like a mix of Canada, sweat and leather. It's an intoxicating mixture in his imagination, and he figures it's got to be at least 100 times better in reality.
America's always loved Canada in leather, be it gloves, jacket or anything really. He's daydreamed about one day confessing to Canada - in most of them feature Canada wearing his RCMP leather boots.
And America's jacket.
And not much else.
Up till now he's chosen to not to think about what that means, that he likes getting off to his brother wearing boots, his jacket and nothing else. Tony tells him that he's got issues when America spends a night trying to figure out if he can steal that stupid fucking collar away. Maybe keep it in his sock drawer or something, where he can haul it out on lonely nights and just smell his brother - it'd be the next best thing to having Canada right there after all. America knows he's got issues. Every nation has issues before long, some of them are obvious, like England's drinking, Spain's pretending and France's need for attention.
America's just mostly focus around Canada.
And um. Yea. Just Canada.
It's at this point, at 6am, just as the sun's rising that America accepts he has a problem with his brother's wearing of a collar.
"Fuck," he says to the wall. "I'm so screwed."
