![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
heroescutiesTitle: Alfred Jones and the Curse of the Pharaoh ( 2/6) [FF.net link] [Previous Chapters]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexual content
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 3,570
Summary: Amidst meetings and their other duties as nations, they had searched for it; the final resting place of the legendary Golden Heart of Osiris. Having figured out the possible location, America and England venture into the tomb of the Pharaoh's sons to try and unearth the artifact. But the question is, can they make it out safely without incurring the Pharaoh's wrath?
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sakuratsukikage as part of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
usxuk's 2009 Secret Santa exchange. The prompt was, in short, America and England go on an adventure. Indiana Jones style. And no, this is not an AU. Countries can go on adventures too, you know. XD
The deluge of floodwater burst over them with incredible force, rushing down over their heads, quickly filling the deep shaft and dousing their lantern. In the darkness, England felt his feet sweep out from under him, clutching fiercely to America’s warm body amidst the cool water. The force of the water slammed into them, knocking the wind from their lungs as it pulled them under the raging current.
I cannot let go. I cannot let him go, England’s thoughts raced. His fingers went numb from grasping so tightly to America, but he was adamant in not letting himself be torn away from him. They would be each other’s only hope in this dire predicament.
But the water was violent and brutal in its descent into the pit, thundering up against them with such power and tugging them deeper into the swirling abyss that was once a dry well shaft. America made a desperate gasp for air as he surfaced momentarily amidst the chaos, trying with his brute strength to pull England above the water as well, if only for a moment, so he too could take a breath. But the water beat down upon them, like an overflowing waterfall, trapping them in the four walls with nowhere to run.
England felt his lungs aching for air, his whole chest throbbing in pain for lack of oxygen. Kicking with all the strength he had, he managed to surface for a mere moment. He thankfully took a gulp of air in before the water pulled him back under.
His limbs were growing heavy and the water was showing no signs of stopping its barrage anytime soon. They had to get out now. There was no choice; it was just a harsh reality.
“A-America…” He stammered as they both managed to surface, both struggling their hardest to keep themselves there. Fumbling in his pocket, England pulled out a flashlight and turned it on. “Waterproof, thank goodness. Now listen America, we need to climb up. One of us first, can pull up the other…”
The water yanked them under once more, and they came up spitting it out. America’s hair was plastered to his face, and he managed a brief smile despite it all. “Okay. I’m getting you out first then.”
“Oh bollocks you will. I’m saving you this time, you bloody hero,” England stated firmly over the roar of the water. He shoved him away and made a valiant effort to swim for the small ledge by the hidden door. Blue eyes blinked in shock as England tossed his flashlight up onto the edge and started to clamber up the side, his knuckles white as he gripped tightly to the rock.
America followed, swimming against the current with all his might, until he was back beside England. He made to reach for him, to give him a hand up to the ledge, when a sharp tug on his leg dragged him under the waves. England turned at his yelp, green eyes wide with fear as moments passed into minutes without any sign of America.
Letting go of the ledge, he dove into the depths. He strained his eyes against the murky water, searching for any sign of him in the dimly lit depths. That’s when he spotted him.
You…you…idiot!
England swam down to help him, the idiot, who was trying to grab both of their backpacks and pull them up with him. He was about to give him a glare, when he noticed the rope tangled around America’s ankle. Okay, so he wasn’t being a complete idiot. England reached into America’s boot, feeling about until his fingertips gripped the top of the knife he’d seen America tuck in there that morning when they’d dressed.
He pulled it out and handed it off to America, who hastily started cutting away the ropes. Relief washed over them both as the rope was cut in two, America’s leg now free. Each of them gathered up a backpack in their arms and kicked off the bottom to swim upwards.
The flashlight on the ledge flickered over the water’s turbulent surface, and suddenly the murky dirt-stained water began to darken. At first England feared that the flashlight had been knocked loose, their source of light and hope pushed off the ledge by the waves. But that’s when he felt America’s hand at his arm, as he pointed at where the darkness had originated.
They surfaced moments later; both of them gaping at the blood red water that was now flowing in through the doorway. Without a word, they hastened to the ledge. England heaved up the bags one by one, and then America helped him up.
Finding his footing on the narrow lip of it, England gripped America’s forearm tightly and hauled him up. The strength of the tug overbalanced them, and they both went tumbling into the doorway, which opened at their weight. With a thud, they hit the tomb’s cool stone floor in the next corridor.
America stood quickly, grabbed up their things and shoved them clear of the door, before he slammed the door closed behind them. Wordlessly, he picked up England and staggered one more chamber ahead.
“America…”
“J-Just a second…”
He fumbled with the latch, the wax seal on the door sticking a bit as he tried to shove it open. Finally, another empty chamber between them and the raging waters, America sat England down and collapsed beside him.
“E-England…the water…it, it was…” He gulped, his face suddenly white in fear. “It went red.”
England nodded, taking a deep breath and shivering a bit due to his soaked clothes. “It just suddenly…”
“Turned blood red.”
They fell silent, England scooting over next to America and wrapping his shaking arms around him. “You’re all right then? Just shaken?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. I’m quite dandy.”
America snorted, a smile finally surfacing back on his face. “England, we were just about drowned in a dark chamber by water that suddenly turned to blood. And you’re just dandy?”
England shrugged, nuzzling a bit into the crook of America’s neck and cherishing the warmth there. “It’s not as bad as the incident in the Amazon at least?”
Chuckling, America opened one of their backpacks and dug around until he unearthed a sleeping bag and pulled it out. “Yeah. This time we were at least prepared with waterproof bags and a flashlight. Oh, and no piranhas. That sucked so badly.”
Wrapping the sleeping bag around them, he asked, “Are we okay here, or should we move on to another chamber?”
England paused a moment, listening intently in the direction they’d come from. If they were lucky, and by the sound of it they were, the well-shaft had a small drainage method at the bottom for any situations in which floodwater entered the tomb. If that was indeed the case, they would be safe two chambers away.
“We can rest here, for now. But keep a listen for anything suspicious.”
America nodded, clutching England tighter to his side. “Okay.”
Leaning up, England pressed a kiss to America’s lips before nuzzling back against him. “We’ll just catch our breath and move on once we’ve changed into something dry.”
Closing their eyes, they let their racing hearts slow back down. Mumbling against England’s hair, America asked, “England, do you know why Burton never went past the chamber with sixteen pillars?”
“No. He never said. Why?”
“I was just wondering…what if something made him turn back. I mean, no one’s really ever explored this tomb much. They all say it’s because it’s just a mausoleum for the sons of a Pharaoh, nothing to see. But what if, a Pharaoh protects his sons more than he protects himself? What if…the water turning blood red and the fact every explorer has turned back, what if it’s a curse, England?”
England frowned. “America, one freak occurrence does not a curse make. Let me know when a mummy springs to life and starts chasing us down the corridors and then we can talk.”
At that moment, a loud crash echoed from the way they’d come. They exchanged a look as the rumble of it resounded down throughout the tomb walls. Something had caved in.
Warily, they got to their feet. America was shaking, but he tried to play it off. “E-England, t-take my hand, so we don’t get separated.”
England repressed a smile, always finding his fear of the supernatural a bit endearing. “All right then.” He reached over and clasped America’s hand, which was trembling a little.
“Sorry, I’m just cold.”
He gave his hand a squeeze. “Once we check this out, we can change into something dry. Come on now.”
With bated breath, they pushed open the door to the corridor they’d passed through. It was as they’d left it, still empty and without any sign of the water creeping through. They exchanged a glance, both of them steeling their nerve as they crossed the corridor and reached for the door to the well-shaft chamber.
They could still hear the water churning and gurgling on the other side, the two sidling together as close as possible as they dared open that door.
What they saw though, was definitely not good. While the water flow had stopped, that was due in part to the fact that the ceiling above the chamber had caved in. Copious amounts of rubble now lay around the chamber, some of it crumbling and falling into the red water below.
“We’re trapped,” America muttered. But then his eyes lit up as he spied a familiar brown hat wedged on the ledge by the pillar. “But there’s my hat!”
He excitedly went and picked it up, plopping it onto his head triumphantly.
“Oh good,” England said sarcastically. "It would be so terrible if we lost that."
America pouted. "I lost my whip though..."
"I'm sure you'll live. Now can we get back to the more urgent matter at hand here?”
Adjusting the hat on his head, America replied. “You mean the curse, England? That’s why this all happened you know, ‘cause it’s cursed.”
Determination flickered in green eyes as he turned to him, “We did not come all the way here to give up. Now we are going in to get what we came here for and then we shall worry about getting ourselves out, all right?”
America smiled, pulling England against him in a one-armed hug. “Keep calm and carry on?”
England smiled back. “Quite. Are you in?”
“Of course, England. Can’t have you straining your old man back or anything.”
He rolled his eyes as they turned around and headed back into the tomb. “Oh hush.”
As they closed the door to the well-shaft chamber, they didn’t notice the shadowy figure rising out of the caved in rubble. Nor did they hear him calling out after them as they retreated further into the tomb, a safe distance away from the water.
“You should not enter this tomb!”
------------------------------------------------------
It was becoming a bit of a habit, really. But as England shoved him back against the wall and started unbuttoning his shirt, America decided that these mid-adventure make-outs were a habit he’d like to keep around.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, he wondered as familiar hands pressed against his now-bare chest. There was probably a scientific study about it. Or at least there should be. America started thinking back over all the science magazines he read, trying to remember if there had been any studies on adventuring increasing the need to… well, get it on.
Considering that even working out gets serious endorphins flowing, it’s really no surprise that stuff like this gets me… He moaned as England started sucking on the nape of his neck. That was going to leave a mark.
Forgoing his scientific pondering, America let his hands wander down the back of England’s damp shirt. Once he reached the bottom, he snuck his hands up under it and splayed them against England’s warm back. America could hear England’s breath hitch at the touch of his hands and he grinned.
“You’re gonna…” He murmured against England’s cheek, words ghosting against still somewhat chilled skin, “…get sick,” America kissed the corner of his lips, “if you don’t get out of your wet clothes.”
England’s reply was a searing kiss. America chuckled as he felt England’s tongue part his lips and plunge inside his mouth, and he made sure to give back as good as he was getting. Pressing back against the cool tomb wall, America hissed as England slid his thigh in between his legs.
“Fuck, England…”
“I rather don’t…” England gasped as America groped him through the front of his wet pants. “I…fuck America, we don’t have time!”
“It’s not like anyone else can get in here with the entrance caved in. Oh! And it’ll keep my mind off the fact that we’re going to be trapped here forever by some Pharaoh’s curse. That too.”
England rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sure there’s a very logical reason behind all that has occurred. I personally don’t sense anything off about the old magic here. The Nile flooded. The roof caved in due to the floodwaters. Some substance dyed it red...”
A mischievous grin surfaced on America’s face as he rubbed forward against his partner, eliciting a moan from the other country. “Come on, England,” he pleaded. “I’ll put on the hat…”
He sighed in resignation, blasted imploring blue eyes always made him give in. “Why do you always make me agree to this? It’s bloody…” America slid a hand down England’s pants and gripped him hard. He jerked forward into the touch and gave America a glare.
“What? I am making it hard for you to disagree?” America asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh blast it all,” England swore. He looped an arm up behind America’s neck and yanked him down into a kiss. The moment his mouth was distracted, America felt England’s fingers fumbling at his belt. He grinned into the kiss and was very thankful he’d already taken off his boots. Sure enough, America’s pants soon joined the boots on the corridor’s floor.
He rolled to his left, taking England with him and pressing him back against the wall. America’s fingers worked fast at England’s shirt, practically popping one button loose in his haste.
England wrapped his arms back up around America neck and smiled. “We’re both bloody mental, you know that?”
America laughed, yanking down England’s trousers and tossing them aside. “You love it.”
At this, England rolled them back the other way. America felt his side brush up against a statue in the corridor and he smiled up at it. “Hello, Hathor. How fitting.”
Pulling back, England turned around and went to dig through their bags. “You and Hathor better not be getting too friendly back there.”
“Not with the view I’ve got,” America wolf whistled. “Really, I’m sorry, Hathor. But you see that hot piece of ass over there? Oh yeah baby, totally mine.”
England blushed, tossing the lube to America. “You are incorrigible.”
“Well, you’d better get over here and show Hathor just how taken I am. Because really England, look at that come-hither glance she’s giving me,” he replied with a grin.
Returning to his side, England pressed up flush against him. He tossed a look up at the statue. “Sorry Miss, but this one’s mine.”
They both grinned at each other, leaning their foreheads together. America pecked a quick kiss to England’s lips before shifting back against the wall. “You first, since apparently you’re quite dandy today.”
England raised an eyebrow. “Well now…”
“Wha? That a problem?” America asked, grinding his hips against England’s. The other country sucked in a breath at the friction.
“It’s just…” He reached down and picked something up off the ground. Setting it atop America’s head he smiled. “There. It’s just… I was under the impression you’d be wearing your hat.”
America winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it on later when it’s my turn too.”
And without a word more, their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. Hands made quick work of the remaining pieces of clothing, and America reached down to start slicking the lube onto England’s length. England bit down a moan as he pulled America’s leg up to wrap around his hip. He started prepping America, slicking his fingers and pushing them inside. Moments later they exchanged a mutual look, both of them with lips parted and gasping for something more. America gave a slight nod, his hand steady against England’s back, as England pressed into him. He cursed and tightened his leg around England’s waist and gasped; and with a kiss, he let England know that he was ready for it. He kissed America softly at that, all tenderness and love, before starting to move. They met each other beat for beat, and at some point, America’s blasted hat fell off, but they really could care less by that point.
As they finished, even their ragged breaths echoed off the tomb walls. England pulled out and helped America down to the cold floor where they snuggled up against each other to keep warm. America’s grin was unwavering as he traced what England was sure were hieroglyphs onto his skin with his fingertip.
“What are you writing on me?”
America smiled “What do you think?”
England shoved playfully at America’s arm, but smiled all the same. “Since I don’t believe there is a word in Middle Egyptian for ‘stodgy,’ I suppose it’s something more romantic for once.”
“Mrwt,” America answered.
England blushed, and shyly glanced to where Hathor’s statue was still watching over them. Love. I suppose you’re at fault for that, being as that’s what you’re the goddess of, Hathor.
“O-Oh.” England leaned over and kissed him, mumbling a quiet “love you” under his breath.
America smiled. Reaching nearby, he picked up his fedora off the floor and put it on England’s head. “Love you too, England.”
-------------------------------------------------------
How they managed to be so invigorated after two goes at it, England wasn’t sure. He would attribute his aches and the way America kept rubbing at his backside to the tryst in the corridor with Hathor, but the fact was they were sore all over from the flooding incident and it was getting hard to discern which aches came from which activity.
Toweling off and a change into dry, clean clothing alone definitely helped though. And America insisted that they stop and eat some lunch that they’d packed. This turned out to be a stash of now slightly-smashed burgers from McDonalds that America adamantly defended would still taste great. England was about to protest this when America held up one made just the way he liked and he caved.
Leave it to America to turn him into a McDonalds loving fool.
Now feeling rather satisfied on all levels, they pulled back out Burton’s rough map and tried to discern where up ahead to go.
“I say we take the left passage here, to the side of the pillared hall,” America said, pointing to the wall paintings along the left side of the corridor they’d entered. “These here talk about the first son of Ramesess II.”
England rolled his eyes. “America, clearly we must pass through the pillared hall. In most standard tomb layouts, a pillared hall is before the main burial chamber.”
“There’s gotta be a reason Burton didn’t go into that hall. I say we avoid it at all costs. We should go left.”
“No. We need to go through the hall. I think I know what I’m talking about America, I was with Carter when he discovered the tomb of King Tut in 1922.”
He put his hands on his hips as if this sealed the deal. America just huffed and stared him down.
“Oh yes, because it’s not like I didn’t help Lehner map the Sphinx or anything!”
They started exchanging accomplishments then, trying to name off bigger and better explorers and adventurers that they’d either directly or indirectly assisted on their mission. Finally, England fell silent.
“Give up?” America asked triumphantly.
“Hush a moment. Do you hear something?”
They fell quiet. Sure enough, the distinct sound of footsteps approaching came from the corridor they’d just passed through. America reached over and clutched England’s hand, his free hand going for the gun he’d secured at his waist in lieu of his lost whip.
“England, do you think I can shoot a mummy?”
England held the flashlight steady as the doorway creaked open. “It’s not a…”
The words died on his lips as his light skimmed over the bandaged hand that pushed the door open.
“Run!”
They turned and made a dash for the main door ahead. Scrambling with the latch, America threw a wary glance over his shoulder at the shadowed figure that was coming through the door.
“It’s open, go in! Go in!” England urged, shoving America through first.
As the door closed behind them, a latch fell over onto it and bolted it closed all of its own accord. England felt a chill go down his spine at this. It was never good when a room was equipped to prevent people from leaving it. But still, it was surely just a safeguard. Nothing was wrong, and it would prevent the intruder from getting any farther.
Or so he thought, up until the moment America screamed.
-----------------------------------
[To Chapter 3...]
-----------------------------------
Notes:
[1] Hathor, was an Ancient Egyptian goddess who personified the principles of love, motherhood and joy.
[2] Howard Carter, was an English archaeologist and Egyptologist, noted as the primary discoverer of the tomb of Tutankhamun (King Tut).
[3] Mark Lehner, is an American archaeologist who produced the only known scale maps of the Giza Sphinx.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexual content
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 3,570
Summary: Amidst meetings and their other duties as nations, they had searched for it; the final resting place of the legendary Golden Heart of Osiris. Having figured out the possible location, America and England venture into the tomb of the Pharaoh's sons to try and unearth the artifact. But the question is, can they make it out safely without incurring the Pharaoh's wrath?
Notes: Written for
sakuratsukikage as part of usxuk's 2009 Secret Santa exchange. The prompt was, in short, America and England go on an adventure. Indiana Jones style. And no, this is not an AU. Countries can go on adventures too, you know. XDThe deluge of floodwater burst over them with incredible force, rushing down over their heads, quickly filling the deep shaft and dousing their lantern. In the darkness, England felt his feet sweep out from under him, clutching fiercely to America’s warm body amidst the cool water. The force of the water slammed into them, knocking the wind from their lungs as it pulled them under the raging current.
I cannot let go. I cannot let him go, England’s thoughts raced. His fingers went numb from grasping so tightly to America, but he was adamant in not letting himself be torn away from him. They would be each other’s only hope in this dire predicament.
But the water was violent and brutal in its descent into the pit, thundering up against them with such power and tugging them deeper into the swirling abyss that was once a dry well shaft. America made a desperate gasp for air as he surfaced momentarily amidst the chaos, trying with his brute strength to pull England above the water as well, if only for a moment, so he too could take a breath. But the water beat down upon them, like an overflowing waterfall, trapping them in the four walls with nowhere to run.
England felt his lungs aching for air, his whole chest throbbing in pain for lack of oxygen. Kicking with all the strength he had, he managed to surface for a mere moment. He thankfully took a gulp of air in before the water pulled him back under.
His limbs were growing heavy and the water was showing no signs of stopping its barrage anytime soon. They had to get out now. There was no choice; it was just a harsh reality.
“A-America…” He stammered as they both managed to surface, both struggling their hardest to keep themselves there. Fumbling in his pocket, England pulled out a flashlight and turned it on. “Waterproof, thank goodness. Now listen America, we need to climb up. One of us first, can pull up the other…”
The water yanked them under once more, and they came up spitting it out. America’s hair was plastered to his face, and he managed a brief smile despite it all. “Okay. I’m getting you out first then.”
“Oh bollocks you will. I’m saving you this time, you bloody hero,” England stated firmly over the roar of the water. He shoved him away and made a valiant effort to swim for the small ledge by the hidden door. Blue eyes blinked in shock as England tossed his flashlight up onto the edge and started to clamber up the side, his knuckles white as he gripped tightly to the rock.
America followed, swimming against the current with all his might, until he was back beside England. He made to reach for him, to give him a hand up to the ledge, when a sharp tug on his leg dragged him under the waves. England turned at his yelp, green eyes wide with fear as moments passed into minutes without any sign of America.
Letting go of the ledge, he dove into the depths. He strained his eyes against the murky water, searching for any sign of him in the dimly lit depths. That’s when he spotted him.
You…you…idiot!
England swam down to help him, the idiot, who was trying to grab both of their backpacks and pull them up with him. He was about to give him a glare, when he noticed the rope tangled around America’s ankle. Okay, so he wasn’t being a complete idiot. England reached into America’s boot, feeling about until his fingertips gripped the top of the knife he’d seen America tuck in there that morning when they’d dressed.
He pulled it out and handed it off to America, who hastily started cutting away the ropes. Relief washed over them both as the rope was cut in two, America’s leg now free. Each of them gathered up a backpack in their arms and kicked off the bottom to swim upwards.
The flashlight on the ledge flickered over the water’s turbulent surface, and suddenly the murky dirt-stained water began to darken. At first England feared that the flashlight had been knocked loose, their source of light and hope pushed off the ledge by the waves. But that’s when he felt America’s hand at his arm, as he pointed at where the darkness had originated.
They surfaced moments later; both of them gaping at the blood red water that was now flowing in through the doorway. Without a word, they hastened to the ledge. England heaved up the bags one by one, and then America helped him up.
Finding his footing on the narrow lip of it, England gripped America’s forearm tightly and hauled him up. The strength of the tug overbalanced them, and they both went tumbling into the doorway, which opened at their weight. With a thud, they hit the tomb’s cool stone floor in the next corridor.
America stood quickly, grabbed up their things and shoved them clear of the door, before he slammed the door closed behind them. Wordlessly, he picked up England and staggered one more chamber ahead.
“America…”
“J-Just a second…”
He fumbled with the latch, the wax seal on the door sticking a bit as he tried to shove it open. Finally, another empty chamber between them and the raging waters, America sat England down and collapsed beside him.
“E-England…the water…it, it was…” He gulped, his face suddenly white in fear. “It went red.”
England nodded, taking a deep breath and shivering a bit due to his soaked clothes. “It just suddenly…”
“Turned blood red.”
They fell silent, England scooting over next to America and wrapping his shaking arms around him. “You’re all right then? Just shaken?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. I’m quite dandy.”
America snorted, a smile finally surfacing back on his face. “England, we were just about drowned in a dark chamber by water that suddenly turned to blood. And you’re just dandy?”
England shrugged, nuzzling a bit into the crook of America’s neck and cherishing the warmth there. “It’s not as bad as the incident in the Amazon at least?”
Chuckling, America opened one of their backpacks and dug around until he unearthed a sleeping bag and pulled it out. “Yeah. This time we were at least prepared with waterproof bags and a flashlight. Oh, and no piranhas. That sucked so badly.”
Wrapping the sleeping bag around them, he asked, “Are we okay here, or should we move on to another chamber?”
England paused a moment, listening intently in the direction they’d come from. If they were lucky, and by the sound of it they were, the well-shaft had a small drainage method at the bottom for any situations in which floodwater entered the tomb. If that was indeed the case, they would be safe two chambers away.
“We can rest here, for now. But keep a listen for anything suspicious.”
America nodded, clutching England tighter to his side. “Okay.”
Leaning up, England pressed a kiss to America’s lips before nuzzling back against him. “We’ll just catch our breath and move on once we’ve changed into something dry.”
Closing their eyes, they let their racing hearts slow back down. Mumbling against England’s hair, America asked, “England, do you know why Burton never went past the chamber with sixteen pillars?”
“No. He never said. Why?”
“I was just wondering…what if something made him turn back. I mean, no one’s really ever explored this tomb much. They all say it’s because it’s just a mausoleum for the sons of a Pharaoh, nothing to see. But what if, a Pharaoh protects his sons more than he protects himself? What if…the water turning blood red and the fact every explorer has turned back, what if it’s a curse, England?”
England frowned. “America, one freak occurrence does not a curse make. Let me know when a mummy springs to life and starts chasing us down the corridors and then we can talk.”
At that moment, a loud crash echoed from the way they’d come. They exchanged a look as the rumble of it resounded down throughout the tomb walls. Something had caved in.
Warily, they got to their feet. America was shaking, but he tried to play it off. “E-England, t-take my hand, so we don’t get separated.”
England repressed a smile, always finding his fear of the supernatural a bit endearing. “All right then.” He reached over and clasped America’s hand, which was trembling a little.
“Sorry, I’m just cold.”
He gave his hand a squeeze. “Once we check this out, we can change into something dry. Come on now.”
With bated breath, they pushed open the door to the corridor they’d passed through. It was as they’d left it, still empty and without any sign of the water creeping through. They exchanged a glance, both of them steeling their nerve as they crossed the corridor and reached for the door to the well-shaft chamber.
They could still hear the water churning and gurgling on the other side, the two sidling together as close as possible as they dared open that door.
What they saw though, was definitely not good. While the water flow had stopped, that was due in part to the fact that the ceiling above the chamber had caved in. Copious amounts of rubble now lay around the chamber, some of it crumbling and falling into the red water below.
“We’re trapped,” America muttered. But then his eyes lit up as he spied a familiar brown hat wedged on the ledge by the pillar. “But there’s my hat!”
He excitedly went and picked it up, plopping it onto his head triumphantly.
“Oh good,” England said sarcastically. "It would be so terrible if we lost that."
America pouted. "I lost my whip though..."
"I'm sure you'll live. Now can we get back to the more urgent matter at hand here?”
Adjusting the hat on his head, America replied. “You mean the curse, England? That’s why this all happened you know, ‘cause it’s cursed.”
Determination flickered in green eyes as he turned to him, “We did not come all the way here to give up. Now we are going in to get what we came here for and then we shall worry about getting ourselves out, all right?”
America smiled, pulling England against him in a one-armed hug. “Keep calm and carry on?”
England smiled back. “Quite. Are you in?”
“Of course, England. Can’t have you straining your old man back or anything.”
He rolled his eyes as they turned around and headed back into the tomb. “Oh hush.”
As they closed the door to the well-shaft chamber, they didn’t notice the shadowy figure rising out of the caved in rubble. Nor did they hear him calling out after them as they retreated further into the tomb, a safe distance away from the water.
“You should not enter this tomb!”
------------------------------------------------------
It was becoming a bit of a habit, really. But as England shoved him back against the wall and started unbuttoning his shirt, America decided that these mid-adventure make-outs were a habit he’d like to keep around.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, he wondered as familiar hands pressed against his now-bare chest. There was probably a scientific study about it. Or at least there should be. America started thinking back over all the science magazines he read, trying to remember if there had been any studies on adventuring increasing the need to… well, get it on.
Considering that even working out gets serious endorphins flowing, it’s really no surprise that stuff like this gets me… He moaned as England started sucking on the nape of his neck. That was going to leave a mark.
Forgoing his scientific pondering, America let his hands wander down the back of England’s damp shirt. Once he reached the bottom, he snuck his hands up under it and splayed them against England’s warm back. America could hear England’s breath hitch at the touch of his hands and he grinned.
“You’re gonna…” He murmured against England’s cheek, words ghosting against still somewhat chilled skin, “…get sick,” America kissed the corner of his lips, “if you don’t get out of your wet clothes.”
England’s reply was a searing kiss. America chuckled as he felt England’s tongue part his lips and plunge inside his mouth, and he made sure to give back as good as he was getting. Pressing back against the cool tomb wall, America hissed as England slid his thigh in between his legs.
“Fuck, England…”
“I rather don’t…” England gasped as America groped him through the front of his wet pants. “I…fuck America, we don’t have time!”
“It’s not like anyone else can get in here with the entrance caved in. Oh! And it’ll keep my mind off the fact that we’re going to be trapped here forever by some Pharaoh’s curse. That too.”
England rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sure there’s a very logical reason behind all that has occurred. I personally don’t sense anything off about the old magic here. The Nile flooded. The roof caved in due to the floodwaters. Some substance dyed it red...”
A mischievous grin surfaced on America’s face as he rubbed forward against his partner, eliciting a moan from the other country. “Come on, England,” he pleaded. “I’ll put on the hat…”
He sighed in resignation, blasted imploring blue eyes always made him give in. “Why do you always make me agree to this? It’s bloody…” America slid a hand down England’s pants and gripped him hard. He jerked forward into the touch and gave America a glare.
“What? I am making it hard for you to disagree?” America asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh blast it all,” England swore. He looped an arm up behind America’s neck and yanked him down into a kiss. The moment his mouth was distracted, America felt England’s fingers fumbling at his belt. He grinned into the kiss and was very thankful he’d already taken off his boots. Sure enough, America’s pants soon joined the boots on the corridor’s floor.
He rolled to his left, taking England with him and pressing him back against the wall. America’s fingers worked fast at England’s shirt, practically popping one button loose in his haste.
England wrapped his arms back up around America neck and smiled. “We’re both bloody mental, you know that?”
America laughed, yanking down England’s trousers and tossing them aside. “You love it.”
At this, England rolled them back the other way. America felt his side brush up against a statue in the corridor and he smiled up at it. “Hello, Hathor. How fitting.”
Pulling back, England turned around and went to dig through their bags. “You and Hathor better not be getting too friendly back there.”
“Not with the view I’ve got,” America wolf whistled. “Really, I’m sorry, Hathor. But you see that hot piece of ass over there? Oh yeah baby, totally mine.”
England blushed, tossing the lube to America. “You are incorrigible.”
“Well, you’d better get over here and show Hathor just how taken I am. Because really England, look at that come-hither glance she’s giving me,” he replied with a grin.
Returning to his side, England pressed up flush against him. He tossed a look up at the statue. “Sorry Miss, but this one’s mine.”
They both grinned at each other, leaning their foreheads together. America pecked a quick kiss to England’s lips before shifting back against the wall. “You first, since apparently you’re quite dandy today.”
England raised an eyebrow. “Well now…”
“Wha? That a problem?” America asked, grinding his hips against England’s. The other country sucked in a breath at the friction.
“It’s just…” He reached down and picked something up off the ground. Setting it atop America’s head he smiled. “There. It’s just… I was under the impression you’d be wearing your hat.”
America winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it on later when it’s my turn too.”
And without a word more, their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. Hands made quick work of the remaining pieces of clothing, and America reached down to start slicking the lube onto England’s length. England bit down a moan as he pulled America’s leg up to wrap around his hip. He started prepping America, slicking his fingers and pushing them inside. Moments later they exchanged a mutual look, both of them with lips parted and gasping for something more. America gave a slight nod, his hand steady against England’s back, as England pressed into him. He cursed and tightened his leg around England’s waist and gasped; and with a kiss, he let England know that he was ready for it. He kissed America softly at that, all tenderness and love, before starting to move. They met each other beat for beat, and at some point, America’s blasted hat fell off, but they really could care less by that point.
As they finished, even their ragged breaths echoed off the tomb walls. England pulled out and helped America down to the cold floor where they snuggled up against each other to keep warm. America’s grin was unwavering as he traced what England was sure were hieroglyphs onto his skin with his fingertip.
“What are you writing on me?”
America smiled “What do you think?”
England shoved playfully at America’s arm, but smiled all the same. “Since I don’t believe there is a word in Middle Egyptian for ‘stodgy,’ I suppose it’s something more romantic for once.”
“Mrwt,” America answered.
England blushed, and shyly glanced to where Hathor’s statue was still watching over them. Love. I suppose you’re at fault for that, being as that’s what you’re the goddess of, Hathor.
“O-Oh.” England leaned over and kissed him, mumbling a quiet “love you” under his breath.
America smiled. Reaching nearby, he picked up his fedora off the floor and put it on England’s head. “Love you too, England.”
-------------------------------------------------------
How they managed to be so invigorated after two goes at it, England wasn’t sure. He would attribute his aches and the way America kept rubbing at his backside to the tryst in the corridor with Hathor, but the fact was they were sore all over from the flooding incident and it was getting hard to discern which aches came from which activity.
Toweling off and a change into dry, clean clothing alone definitely helped though. And America insisted that they stop and eat some lunch that they’d packed. This turned out to be a stash of now slightly-smashed burgers from McDonalds that America adamantly defended would still taste great. England was about to protest this when America held up one made just the way he liked and he caved.
Leave it to America to turn him into a McDonalds loving fool.
Now feeling rather satisfied on all levels, they pulled back out Burton’s rough map and tried to discern where up ahead to go.
“I say we take the left passage here, to the side of the pillared hall,” America said, pointing to the wall paintings along the left side of the corridor they’d entered. “These here talk about the first son of Ramesess II.”
England rolled his eyes. “America, clearly we must pass through the pillared hall. In most standard tomb layouts, a pillared hall is before the main burial chamber.”
“There’s gotta be a reason Burton didn’t go into that hall. I say we avoid it at all costs. We should go left.”
“No. We need to go through the hall. I think I know what I’m talking about America, I was with Carter when he discovered the tomb of King Tut in 1922.”
He put his hands on his hips as if this sealed the deal. America just huffed and stared him down.
“Oh yes, because it’s not like I didn’t help Lehner map the Sphinx or anything!”
They started exchanging accomplishments then, trying to name off bigger and better explorers and adventurers that they’d either directly or indirectly assisted on their mission. Finally, England fell silent.
“Give up?” America asked triumphantly.
“Hush a moment. Do you hear something?”
They fell quiet. Sure enough, the distinct sound of footsteps approaching came from the corridor they’d just passed through. America reached over and clutched England’s hand, his free hand going for the gun he’d secured at his waist in lieu of his lost whip.
“England, do you think I can shoot a mummy?”
England held the flashlight steady as the doorway creaked open. “It’s not a…”
The words died on his lips as his light skimmed over the bandaged hand that pushed the door open.
“Run!”
They turned and made a dash for the main door ahead. Scrambling with the latch, America threw a wary glance over his shoulder at the shadowed figure that was coming through the door.
“It’s open, go in! Go in!” England urged, shoving America through first.
As the door closed behind them, a latch fell over onto it and bolted it closed all of its own accord. England felt a chill go down his spine at this. It was never good when a room was equipped to prevent people from leaving it. But still, it was surely just a safeguard. Nothing was wrong, and it would prevent the intruder from getting any farther.
Or so he thought, up until the moment America screamed.
-----------------------------------
[To Chapter 3...]
-----------------------------------
Notes:
[1] Hathor, was an Ancient Egyptian goddess who personified the principles of love, motherhood and joy.
[2] Howard Carter, was an English archaeologist and Egyptologist, noted as the primary discoverer of the tomb of Tutankhamun (King Tut).
[3] Mark Lehner, is an American archaeologist who produced the only known scale maps of the Giza Sphinx.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 07:21 pm (UTC)*pats* There, there ='D I'm sure you'll find in the future lots of porn with America wearing all kind of fancy hats, both big and small ones ='D
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 10:47 pm (UTC)