Author's note: Tumblr holiday request (cnutsweynsson): « Yay~ well, going with what we were just talking about, can it be some Denmark/America? Not sure if you want a prompt along with it, smut or not, although I can't see these two doing anything without it ending in sex./I can see them doing some "manly" bro stuff, like watching wrestling or doing some outdoor hunting. Whatever you decide! xD » Set this in the 30s though that might not be too important. I don't super-ship either of these with anyone in particular but I can ship them together (remember: any Nordic/any Kirkland) and it was nice to be able to write them again.

Cat-calls and doggie style

Most men, Christen knows, didn't go out with other men to hit on ladies. But then again, most men weren't like Christen and Alfred.

Even just being out together was a nice change for the Danish man who was so used to complaints from Lukas and low grunts from Berwald and optimistic but disenfranchised comments from Timo while Emil stood in the background shouting how much he hated Christen for something he wasn't sure he had actually done. Even if others found Alfred barely tolerable on most days, Christen always thought him a right laugh, and he's pretty sure the American feels the same way about him.

They drink beer outside the little café in whatever American city this was today, Alfred cat-calling in English while Christen then smoothed things over with his deliciously foreign Danish accent. Not one woman who approached, either out of interest or to slap them, ever noticed Christen's hand on Alfred's thigh, very, very close to a very, very sensitive area of the man.

"Come on," Christen whispers in his ear as he leans over, "let's get out of here and find something better to do."

"Like what?" Alfred asks before downing the rest of his beer, preparing to go.

"Each other of course," the Dane replies, still keeping his voice down, and that's that.

The radio breaks with a crisp noise as it reports on some baseball game. Christen isn't even sure who's playing though Alfred probably does, the American's face shoved into a pillow as the Dane thrusts into him. In, out, in, out: Christen loves the way Alfred's hands grasp the pillows and sheets, tightening and loosening and tightening again, the way the man pushes back, the way he turns his head to demand faster, harder, I'm not some pussy you know.

So Christen reaches forward to grasp the headboard, finally getting the angle right as he slams into that fantastic ass. He knows Alfred is stroking himself now and it drives him wild, murmuring things in Danish that his lover would never understand.

He comes first, spilling into that ass without care, and immediately after the American comes too, his shouts muffled. They collapse together on Alfred's bed, breathing shallowly, as the crowd goes wild on the radio.

"Home run?" Christen asks.

"Yeah it was," Alfred laughs.

Still dripping wet from his shower the American makes his way around the room, finding his clothes and throwing them into the back of his closet. Christen on the bed admires Alfred's body: a little English, a little Germanic, and maybe just a touch of Francis's. He was lean, not lanky, more muscular than Lukas though not as much as Christen and Berwald. "When do we leave?" the Dane asks, head rolling back.

"Tomorrow, five am." Christen makes a noise of disapproval. "Look," the American calls back, exasperated, "these deer aren't going to shoot themselves and it's a long drive!"

"The United States is too big," the Dane complains.

Jumping on the bed to lay atop him Alfred smiles something devilish, whispering seductively, "Thought you said there was no such thing."

"Damn right."