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[Fanfiction] Act Natural 1/5

Title: Act Natural [Chapter 1/5]
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Pairing(s): US/UK, implied GerIta & Spamano
Rating/Warnings: Overall NC-17 for an abundance of fantasized sex.
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, porn novelist extraordinaire, is suffering from writer's block. His new muse shows up on his doorstep with an American accent, a mega-watt smile and a tool belt. [written for the kink meme]

- - -

Arthur Kirkland sat at his desk, fingers poised above the keyboard of his laptop, shoulders slightly hunched to see the screen. The look on his face was incredibly focused, and every now and again he'd stick his tongue out the corner of his mouth in concentration. He'd been at it for about three hours now, and his tea sat cooling to his right, nearly untouched as Arthur threw himself into his work.

The only problem was Arthur's fingers hadn't actually moved in those three hours and the only thing that was on the open document in front of him was a blinking cursor. Arthur watched the cursor with narrowed eyes, hating it with a fury, wishing from the very depths of his soul that he could stop every one of its stupid, mocking blinks. All he had to do was type something, but he couldn't for the life of him think of anything.

He'd written half a page that morning, read over it and deleted it for being crap. Utter crap.

He narrowed his eyes even more, his fingers twitching over the keyboard as he tried to force his brain to squeeze out one sentence, anything really, that he could start with. All he needed was one, and then he could build and build off of it, and hopefully come out with something halfway decent.

But his brain seemed to be absent at the moment, likely taking a vacation with Arthur's liver, living it up and having a grand old time somewhere and not giving Arthur ideas. Well, fuck them. He couldn't be faulted for drinking them into a coma, those fucking blue drinks didn't even taste like alcohol.

Arthur let his head fall to the desk, smashing the keyboard against his forehead in the hopes that maybe, miraculously, it would create a sentence, just one bloody sentence that he could work with. But when he raised his head again, it was to see that the page was filled with absolute nonsense. His forehead, directly connected to his brain as it was, had failed to even write a proper word.

“Aaah!” Arthur yelled, picking up a pencil holder that was lying close by and chucking it at the wall with all his might.

Then he watched as, instead of hitting the wall with a dull thump, the pencil holder hit the window about five feet to the left of where Arthur had aimed. It hit with a tinny sort of cracking sound and Arthur watched in complete horror as a spiderweb of small cracks spread over the glass and it broke, falling in tiny pieces to his hardwood floor, pencils and pens scattered amongst the glass.

Well. He'd never been very good at sports. He made a living writing gay porn, for fuck's sake.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Arthur mumbled, closing his eyes and bringing his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. Now he was going to have to call someone to fix it and have some behemoth of a man who stank and likely had no credentials tromping around his precious office.

“Just fucking peachy,” he said and headed downstairs to his phone.

x o x

The town in which Arthur dwelled would never be considered a hub of...anything. It was small, very rural and that's just how Arthur liked it. It was peaceful in the country, it allowed him to think better and as long as he could get internet, than he could work.

Unfortunately living in the sticks also meant that when you needed help, there was very little option as to who you could call. There was a business on the far side of the town, a sort of fix-all establishment that did all sorts of things, carpentry, plumbing, electrics, cars. Anything you needed help with, one of their guys was enough of a professional in it that he could maybe not fuck it up worse than you had. And that was really your only option.

So when Arthur had called them, told them about his sad, broken window, they'd happily told him it would be no problem. Arthur had his doubts, but when he went to let the repairman in the next day, he was not met with an overweight, smelly construction worker who had plumber's crack without even bending over. Instead, he opened the door to reveal a tall man with blond hair and an impressive amount of muscle showing through his t-shirt. A tool belt hung around his waist, dragging his work jeans down just enough for a bit of skin to peak through. Arthur dragged his eyes back to the man's face so he could greet him properly, but was sidetracked once again when he saw the man's bright blue eyes and his mind went off into another daydream.

“Mr. Kirkland?” the man asked.

Arthur snapped out of it with only a slight blush staining his cheeks. He coughed. “Ah, yes, that's me.”

“I'm Alfred, and I'm here for your window,” the man said easily, smile bright beneath the sunshine of his hair. His accent was American. It was fucking sexy as hell.

“Right,” Arthur said belatedly. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, Arthur wondering what kind of shampoo Alfred used and how he managed to keep his skin so smooth and deliciously tanned and – the man chuckled a bit.

“I need to see the window that needs fixing before I can get my stuff, so...” he trailed off, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans (which dragged them down even more, the slope of his hip bone just beginning to peak out – not that Arthur noticed or anything) and shrugging his shoulders up near his chin as he smiled, giving the impression that he was asking Arthur a really big favor, instead of making him look like a complete dunce.

“Oh, yes, I- of course you- well, I shou- uhm, yes,” Arthur said, words tumbling from his brain too fast for his mouth to make sense of them. Wordsmith. Hah.

“Right this way,” he managed finally, face beat red as he headed for his office. When they reached the stairs, he briefly considered asking Alfred to lead the way, if only so that he could admire the man's arse on the way up. But he couldn't think of a logical reason why Alfred would need to precede him up the stairs and so gave up on the idea with no small amount of disappointment. Once they reached his office, Arthur gestured to the window and watched as Alfred walked over, inspecting the broken glass that littered the floor and then the window itself.

Arthur cursed himself for not cleaning it up beforehand; he must look like a completely useless airhead right now. “Oh, forgive me, I forgot to clean the glass up, I'll go get-”

“No, no,” Alfred said, holding up his hand. “I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'll do it, I've got gloves.”

Arthur blushed even more, if that were possible. He raised his hands to his cheeks to try and cool them while Alfred still had his back to him.

“I think I know what I need,” Alfred said finally, turning to look at Arthur. Arthur jerked his hands back down to his sides, where they stayed awkwardly since he couldn't for the life of him figure out where to put them. “How'd you break it?”

“Uh,” Arthur said, taken slightly off guard. His mind was clearly enjoying its vacation quite thoroughly. Bloody, fucking wanker. “A bird.”

“Huh,” Alfred said, and Arthur felt like a complete idiot. “Poor bird.”

With that, Alfred walked past him and down the stairs to wherever he kept his tools and whatnot, his truck, most likely. Arthur sagged against the wall for a moment, fanning his face. Dear lord, that man was sex on legs. It was like the ancient gods had given birth to him themselves, creating one perfectly proportioned and sculpted male in their magnificent image, and then graciously gave that being unto man, who were perhaps underserving of such a wonderful gift, but who would nonetheless give their thanks through worship of his-

Well shit. That was pretty fucking good.

Arthur's eyes darted to his computer and sidled over to it slowly, glancing back through the door as his hand reached out to touch the shiny surface of his laptop. The repair man was nowhere in sight and Arthur turned back to his computer, gently beginning to pry it open and-

“You don't have to stay here,” Alfred said suddenly from right beside him. Arthur jumped at the voice and turned to find the American grinning at him. “If you got other stuff to do, you can just leave me to it. Won't take but a jiff.”

Alfred walked over to the window and set down the large pane of glass he'd brought with him, along with some other tools. Arthur watched as he bent to brush the broken glass into a small dustpan, using his gloved fingers to get all the tiny pieces. Arthur's gaze went to the man's jean-clad backside, admiring the shape and drinking in that little bit of smooth, tanned skin just above the hem like other men might a good wine, all the while wondering what the hell a 'jiff' was.

“What?” Alfred asked, turning to regard him.

Oh. He'd said that out loud. Dammit.

“Nothing,” Arthur said hurriedly. “I'll just, ah, I have to do something.”

“Okay,” Alfred said easily, turning back to the task at hand.

“On the computer,” Arthur continued, and Alfred turned to him once more, eyebrows raised in an expression that clearly said, I was just trying to be nice, please don't tell me your life story or show me family pictures or something creepy like that.

Seriously, where the fuck was his brain today?

Arthur waited until Alfred was turned to his task once more, then reached out and opened his computer quickly. The blank page from yesterday was still there, with that garbled junk his forehead had typed out mocking him. He viciously tapped the delete key, smirking as the last of it was wiped from the page, never to return. Then he glanced at his repairman, who had finished cleaning the glass shards and was now removing what was left of the window from the frame. It displayed his arm muscles very clearly, the tanned skin of his forearms shifting in a tantalizing show of power as he worked at tugging the remaining glass free. Arthur imagined those hands involved in a different sort of task, applying that strength and dexterity to mapping the skin of his lover, brushing long fingers across a sensitive nipple before trailing it down to firmly take hold of-

Arthur licked his lips and bent over his computer, typing furiously as sentence after sentence flowed from his mind, his fingers moving rapidly as he tried to keep up with his thoughts, tried to put to paper (or computer, rather) what his mind kept envisioning every time he glanced at those muscled arms, that toned backside beneath just-loose-enough denim and that smile that shined as bright as the sun coming in through his stupid, beautiful broken window.

He'd gotten seven pages written by the time Alfred was finished, but he was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice when the repairman began packing up all his tools, cleaning up any stray bit of glass that he missed and generally preparing to leave. Arthur barely even registered the looming shadow of someone standing just behind him, and definitely forgot that what he was writing on his screen was potentially fatally embarrassing.

“Turgid cock, huh?” Alfred said into the silence.

Arthur was startled badly, fingers spasming so that the last half of his sentence ended in dsf;io;knf. He glanced up at Alfred, saw that he was reading what Arthur had written and hastily tried to cover up the screen, as if the damage hadn't already been done. Thank god Arthur hadn't used the man's actual name, or it could have been – what was he talking about!? The hot repairman had discovered that Arthur was writing porn. If he got out of this with any sort of dignity intact it would be a god damned miracle.

“I like that; sometimes authors find really good synonyms for dicks, you know,” Alfred continued, cocking his hip to one side and looking up, thinking. “I mean, a lot of times you get really weird ones, like quivering member, or oh! Oh! The one I hate the most is when they call it 'meat,' like I really want to associate someone's cock with a delicious steak, or something. I don't know, it just seems awkward to me. I mean, there's plenty of other things to call a penis, right? Haha, but I'm no writer.”

Arthur's brain, which had recently returned from its vacation to gape at Alfred right alongside Arthur, promptly imploded.

The man walked over to Arthur's bookshelf, and all the Englishman could do was silently plea that he leave the porn section alone, ignore it, ignore it! But as luck would have it, it was the first section Alfred went to. He pulled a couple titles out and hummed with something akin to, well. Arthur's brain was still recovering, but it sounded, ridiculous as the idea may be, like a healthy amount of interest.

“So I guess you wrote some of these?” Alfred asked, turning to give Arthur a grin. “I wonder if I've read any of yours~” he half sang, waggling his eyebrows.

Arthur's brain began dribbling out his ears.

“I read a lot of stuff from Japan,” Alfred continued easily, thumbing through a couple more titles as he spoke. “My friend buys a bunch of it online, it's called yaoi. I don't really watch the shows they belong to, but some of those Japanese authors have some heavy duty kinks.” Alfred laughed.

All Arthur could come up with was, “You read Japanese?” Yeah, that was good. Act like you're interested in the man intellectually and not just magically inspired by the thought of his dick. Just leave the porn out of the conversation entirely.

“Oh yeah,” Alfred said, going to pick up the pile of tools he'd set down near Arthur's desk. “I can read a bunch of different languages. French smut can get pretty intense too; those guys really know how to get dirty, you know. I mean, they did come up with the phrase menage a trois, after all. Which makes me wonder if you could change it up sometimes, call it a menage a sept or something, haha.”

That hadn't worked. That hadn't worked at all. The logical side of Arthur's brain wibbled and then just shut down altogether in the face of this man's unwavering ability to bring any topic Arthur threw at him right back to porn. Seven people? My god, that sounded fucking hot-!

“Anyway, I'll send you the bill sometime in the next couple days. You can either come buy and pay in person, or send a check to us in the mail, doesn't matter.”

Alfred headed for the door while Arthur was still struggling to digest the abrupt turn from porn to billing, and the fact that the man was well versed in Arthur's genre of choice. Good lord, the man read porn. A lot of porn. Gay porn.

“Well, have a nice day, Mr. Kirkland!” Alfred said, giving Arthur a wink over his shoulder before waving his hand and disappearing from sight.

Arthur heard the heavy steps of his work boots going down the stairs, across the entryway and then heard the slam of the door as the man left. If he strained his ears, he could even hear the start of the truck's engine and the roar of it driving down the street.

After another few moments, Arthur snapped out of it.

“He's gay,” Arthur muttered, glancing around rapidly, mind racing. “The fucking repairman is fucking hot as hell and he's gay!”

A pause.

“I need to break something else.”

x o x

Of course, it never occurred to Arthur that the repair shop that Alfred worked for might, in fact, have multiple men in their employ and that even if he did happen to accidentally flush a cherry bomb down his toilet, he wouldn't necessarily be graced by the sight of Alfred's glorious arse bent over as he attempted to fix the ensuing disaster.

Because when he went to answer the door, fully prepared to laughingly blame his broken toilet on the incredible and persisting nuisance that was his nephew, (he really did have a nephew, by the way; his name was Peter and he was fucking annoying as hell, so this fib wasn't a stretch. Not by a long shot.) he was sadly not greeted by shining blue eye, a killer smile, delectable muscles barely contained by a thin t-shirt, tanned skin that glistened in the sun - well. You get the idea.

It was actually, and rather depressingly, the exact opposite. This man had chocolate brown eyes and an intense scowl that twisted his mouth so viciously that Arthur wondered if the man even knew how to smile. The man stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping in obvious impatience.

“Kirkland?” he asked rudely, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Arthur asked, unimpressed.

“Lovino Vargas,” he said, “I'm your repairman.”

There was a long pause, wherein Mr. Vargas managed to sink his brows even further into a truly frightening scowl, one that might even outdo Arthur's own impressive glare, and the Englishman tried to decide whether or not it was acceptable to turn the man away based purely on the fact that his arse didn't inspire poetry. Arthur liked to imagine he wasn't that big of a dick, though, despite his tendency to write about them (oh fuck, that pun was so bad it wasn't even worth laughing at in his sad, sad excuse for a brain right now) and so he opened the door further.

“Lovely,” Arthur said, deadpan, and led the man to the toilet that sorely needed to be fixed. He opened the door and the man just stood there, staring at the broken porcelain for long moments before looking at Arthur.

“What the fuck did you do?” he asked, frowning, and Arthur could just barely detect a hint of Italian in his accent, peeking out through his cussing.

“My nephew flushed a cherry bomb down the toilet,” Arthur explained, then turned. “Just fix it.”

Arthur spent the next three hours sitting at his kitchen table, listening to the chorus of profanity that drifted down the stairs from where Lovino was working on repairing his toilet. After a while, it had become almost calming and Arthur imagined himself to be in some sort of peaceful internal garden of cussing zen.

Unfortunately, it had remained as inspiring as fuck all throughout the whole three hours and his computer sat in front of him, nothing written but those handful of pages he'd managed to write during the time it'd taken for Alfred to fix his window. All he'd managed to do in regards to his story was reread it, fix a few spelling and grammatical errors and, in the process, turn himself on from the images he'd painted of his incredibly sexy, absent repairman. It had actually been the reasoning behind such a destructive fuck-up as throwing a firecracker down his toilet. The more time it took to fix, Arthur had reasoned, the more time that blessedly attractive American could stay in his house.

Alfred seemed to be his newly found, and greatly appreciated, muse. When he was around the American, prose came flowing through his mind as easily as they had when he'd first started writing, as if his brain had bee born to create beautiful works of written wonder that would astound, and hopefully arouse, his chosen audience. He'd tried sitting in the hallway outside where Lovino was working, using the excuse that Arthur didn't exactly trust the Italian to fix it properly (which wasn't entirely untrue), with his computer propped on his legs, but his brain had refused to take the, not unpleasant, sight of the Italian's own impressive figure as inspiration for his most recent endeavor into the world of porn.

No Alfred, no porn. Or so it seemed.

Arthur resolutely denied himself the satisfaction of banging his head against the wall.

He had eventually given up entirely and retreated to the kitchen, where he'd sat in uninspired boredom for the rest of the substantial time it had taken Lovino to fix his toilet. One thing his self-imposed writing exile had managed to get him was an entirely villainous and incredibly pleasing plan of action for the following day, wherein he would take care of his little problem of not having Alfred available to work and get glorious revenge at the same time (even though it hadn't really been Lovino's fault that he'd been chosen to fix Arthur's toilet instead of Alfred. Arthur didn't care). He just needed to know one little thing before his current repairman left.

“Mr. Vargas,” Arthur called as the man came down the stairs with his tools and whatnot gathered, clearly intent on leaving as quickly as possible.

“I'll send you the bill tomorrow,” he said quickly, heading for the door.

“How many repairmen does your company employ?” Arthur continued, ignoring the Italian's attempt to leave.

“What?” Lovino asked, confused. He seemed to think about it for a moment, then said, “Just me and Alfred, now that Feliciano moved in with his boyfriend and can't be fucked to go to work just because that potato-loving freak makes bank at his stupid job. I mean, who'd have fucking thought porn stars would make that much money? And that guy, who wants to watch a super-buff German whip the shit out of anyone, anyway? I think the fucker's got some serious control issues, that's what I think.”

Arthur blinked. He couldn't decide if that was way, way too much information to be hearing from his local repairman... or an incredibly hot idea for his next novel.

“Why?” Lovino asked, completely unaware that if Arthur hadn't written gay porn for a living, he would likely be entirely too embarrassed by that little tirade to even speak coherently.

But given that the Englishman was, in fact, a porn enthusiast, he merely shrugged. “No reason,” he said, and opened the door for Lovino to leave through.

x o x

“Good morning, Dick's Repair, how may I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Antonio Carriedo; I'm Spanish and really stupid and broke my oven, can you send someone to fix it?”

“Ahah...sure, no problem, I can send someone over this afternoon if you'd like.”

“That would be splendid, and could I please ask that you send Mr. Vargas? I've worked with him before.”

“No problem, sir.”

“Excellent,” Arthur said, smile widening on his face. He listed off the address of his fellow writer and assured the man on the phone that he was writing down the time so he wouldn't forget to be home. Antonio rarely went out, so Arthur had no doubt that he'd be home when the lovely Italian showed up. He had a thing for Italians.

Antonio would either get lucky and find new inspiration for his own writing in the profane mouth of the feisty Italian and shower Arthur in thanks for being such a good friend, or he'd get punched in the balls for groping a complete stranger.

All things considered, it was a win-win for Arthur.

Oh, the shenanigans that will ensue.


( 42 comments — Leave a comment )
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Dec. 20th, 2010 12:02 am (UTC)

I love this fill like WOAH. <////]
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:32 am (UTC)
I love you hardcore.

(no subject) - blulious - Dec. 21st, 2010 01:20 am (UTC) - Expand
Dec. 20th, 2010 12:12 am (UTC)
Oh, I remember this fic! It was hysterical ang Ig kept fainting all the time right? ^-^ yeah it made me laugh, cheers I'm glad this was you!

^ BTW the comment above me is marvelous!
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:33 am (UTC)
Thank you! And yes, Arthur did quite a bit of fainting. His brain tends to overheat when Alfred is in the room. :3
Dec. 20th, 2010 12:12 am (UTC)

excuse me while I teleport the shrine in my closet that I built for you to your house

this is for you
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:33 am (UTC)

I will love it forever. :3
Dec. 20th, 2010 12:20 am (UTC)
I'm of the opinion that this needs a sequel! Especially considering that I love your writing and this totally made my day. Alfred is just going to LOVE the surprise, isn't he?


Oh heeey, this is 1/5! I'm just a moron! You wouldn't happen to have the link to the original so I can peruse it, would you?


Edited at 2010-12-20 12:21 am (UTC)
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:35 am (UTC)
Thank you, haha. I'll be updating once a day, but if you can't wait >///< the kink meme link is thus:

Part 1-5: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17337.html?thread=52914361#t52914361
Part 6-7: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=58272313#t58272313
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:40 am (UTC)
Thank you! I love you and your comments. ♥ I was a little worried I was overdoing the description of Alfred's body, but I'm glad you liked it. XD
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:53 am (UTC)
Thank you very much! I'm glad you like my Arthur. ♥♥♥
Dec. 20th, 2010 02:32 am (UTC)
OMG. How did I miss this at the kink meme?! This is BRILLIANT; I can't even count the amount of lines that were PURE GOLD. The puns. Arthur's voice and his imagination. Seven pages, dammit! xD I was gasping in awe when I read that xD

And how you made Alfred such a versed man, and how he read what Arthur was writing. That was hysterical x'D

Either I hope for getting more updates soon, or I'm heading right now to the kink meme looking for this fill. I NEED more of this like air, no kidding.
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:57 am (UTC)
Haha, thank you! ♥ Yeah, Alfred is well versed IN PORN, which I think is not as academically worthy as being well versed in, say, Shakespeare. OTL
Dec. 20th, 2010 02:40 am (UTC)


I think I love you.


[hugs and never lets go]
Dec. 21st, 2010 12:58 am (UTC)
Thank you!

I love you too. ♥
Dec. 20th, 2010 02:57 am (UTC)
I've been stalking this on the kink meme and I've always wanted to know who wrote this.
You, my good madam/sir, are brilliant. :D
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:01 am (UTC)
Thank you very much! ♥ ♥
Dec. 20th, 2010 03:31 am (UTC)

Since I have no idea how to work a kink meme, I had no idea this existed til now. HOLY GOD, I'M GLAD YOU MADE THIS. This like...oh my God, I can't even.../incoherent

“I need to break something else.”

If I were in Arthur's position, this would be my exact thought.

I can't wait for part 2. You're amazing.
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:03 am (UTC)
Thank you! :3 ♥
Dec. 20th, 2010 06:08 am (UTC)



I will return when I remember/re-learn how to string words together in a coherent sentence other than this one
Dec. 20th, 2010 03:27 pm (UTC)

Everytime I come back here and read and remember the fill I just, I just - -

DAMN YOU FOR SENDING ME INTO INCOHERENCY. but oh, thank you so much for this wonderful, wonderful, absolutely brilliant fill 8'D

(no subject) - monobuu - Dec. 21st, 2010 01:08 am (UTC) - Expand
Dec. 20th, 2010 06:18 am (UTC)

At last I can thank you properly for this wonderful fill! You made me laugh so hard with that story! Your kind of humour is the sort I absolutely love. I was so giddy whenever I saw a update on the kink meme; it never failed to brighten my day instantly. You, my dear, are amazing, and I'll be sure to safely keep this fic of yours in my list of great fics. (^_~)

Awesome work! I'm glad you de-anoned!

(My, now that you're publishing it under your journal, I might have to read it once more... =P)
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:18 am (UTC)
It was me! ♥ Thank you very much. :3 I'm glad you enjoy my humor.

(And please do. ♥)
Dec. 20th, 2010 07:13 am (UTC)
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:21 am (UTC)
THANK YOU. ♥ I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Dec. 20th, 2010 07:41 am (UTC)







/incoherency 999999999999999999
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:27 am (UTC)
Dec. 20th, 2010 09:23 am (UTC)

Now I'm confused whether I should wait patiently for the next update or look for this at the kink meme /DILEMMADILEMMA But god this. is. awesome.

/is incoherent
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:31 am (UTC)
Haha, thank you~ ♥

You won't have to wait too long, should you decide to be patient. :3
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( 42 comments — Leave a comment )