4Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Hetalia and/or the characters. This is a non-profit fanfic, made solely for fun.
Rated: M for safety. I don't want this fic taken down.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter I
Get in. Gain trust. Extract information. Eliminate the target. Return home.
Easy as that. An undercover mission akin to many others that agent Kirkland had accomplished. No complications, no useless risks; smooth and clear. The outcome of the war – the fate of his country – depended on him.
Alfred F. Jones – the name of the infamous man he had to deal with. No little was his surprise when he met the lad, the boy behind the job. Not a brilliant strategist who spent his time playing chess, studying or creating new tactics and who felt an intense desire to take over England. A patriot to the heart, indeed; one with big dreams and a lot of potential to achieve them. Had he not been on Arthur's target list, he might have actually reached his goals. Given the current situation, though, he'd be dead before he'd have a chance to touch them.
He had infiltrated in the American's close circle. He had gained his trust. He had extracted as much information as he could. Three steps completed. He had followed the instructions on the mission file.
But nowhere in the file was it mentioned making out with the target, in his office and on his desk.
Arthur tasted the sweetness of chocolate and the acidity of coke - typical. He let out a moan as the other pulled away to get some air. His head tilted as Alfred's hot breath traveled down his neck. Soft lips were dancing on his skin; only bits of incoherent sentences reached his ear. His mind was not the only one in a daze. Impatient hands slipped under his shirt and he knew he should have stopped.
Rule#4: Do not let your guard down.
Lost in the game of touches, he had long ago let his guard down. The last few buttons flew open as he exposed Alfred's torso. He explored the naked skin, feeling the muscles beneath until he came across something cold. The gun. Jones always carried one around, always loaded, always ready for use. He drew the edge of the barrel – all he had to do was take it out and pull the trigger.
Rule#3: Do not hesitate.
The American didn't seem to notice. Instead, he maintained his trail of words about…
"What…?" His voice sounded so airy. Arthur tangled his fingers in the other's hair, pulling just hard enough to make him stop. "Could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch it." Honestly, he hoped he misunderstood it.
"You want me to repeat it?" Alfred chuckled, "I'll say it a million times if you want: I love you."
Even as Jones locked their lips, the Brit could not focus on the kiss. The confession played in his mind over and over again like a broken record. His chest became heavy, his throat tight and he could not get rid of that aching knot. Shoot him. Get this over with. He knew he should have listened to his brain, accomplish the mission, not waste such an opportunity. He'd better spare them both the trouble – the complications – and end it now. His hand froze on the weapon.
"I love you, Oliver."
You wouldn't say that if you knew who I was… or what I'm here for.
"Those are dangerous words for someone in your position."
Oliver… how he hated his fake name now!
"What, are they going to kill me for it?"
I am… I'm supposed to… Get a hold of yourself! Do it!
He forced his hand to move, to yank the gun. Alfred flinched as the cold barrel touched his skin. No useless risk – best aim for the heart. Bewilder washed over the American's face. The slam of the door, the steps, the warning – they were all dull noises in the background.
"I'm sorry."
I'm aiming for short chapters this time. Hopefully faster updates too, if it's worth continuing. It'd be great if you let me know what you think, through reviews or PMs.