Eight Mortal Secrets [Hetalia Drabbles] (Completed, to be Edited)

XXVII: Shelby vs. Samara

"Samara, doll, please come out of the bathroom." Allen called from the other side of door. Inside the bathroom, Shelby sat up against the door, curled up in a sort of ball as she attempted to ignore the lunatic on the other side.

"What if I promise not to kiss you again?" He bargained.

"You know, something tells me that you're not one to keep your promises." Shelby muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

"Ayyyy, when'd ya get so smart?" He laughed.

"Listen, sir, I'm really running outta patience right now. For the last time, I am not this Samara chick. My name is Shelby Ferrell. I do not know who you are. I don't want you to touch me. I don't want you to kiss me. And I have a feeling that whoever Samara is, she didn't want you kissing or touching her either." Shelby tried to keep her irritation and rage out of her voice, but to no prevail.

It was silent outside of a few moments, and after waiting for a second, Shelby looked up, thinking it was safe. But before she could react, a baseball bat covered with nails busted through the door just above her head. She let a scream and ducked, the top of her head stinging from where nails had scraped across her scalp.

"Take that back, Samara." Allen's voice was now forceful with anger.

"I will not!" She choked out through her tightening throat, tears of fear and pain welling in her eyes, but she refused to let it be know that she was crying and give him any satisfaction.

The bat was yanked out of the door, and a tan, muscular arm reached in, untwisting the lock and then opening the door. Shelby quickly wiped away her tears so he wouldn't see them.

"Samara, babe. Come on, this whole argument is causing unnecessary anger. If we're going to talk it out, you can't hide in the bathroom." Allen sighed, reaching done and easily scooping Shelby off the ground. She squirmed in his grip, but it was like a boa constrictor; there was no way she was getting out of his hold.

"I. Am not. Samara." She seethed, trying to send a kick Allen's way, but it was pointless.

"Come on Mar, look at me." He sat on the couch and set Shelby next to him, grabbing her face with his hands and forcing her to look up on him. "You're being unreasonable, and you know it. Why don't we crack open a beer or two, relax, and get comfortable, huh?" He flashed a gap-toothed smile.

Shelby's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't drink. And if you solve all your fights with getting your girlfriend drunk, then I think I found an issue in your relationship."

His eyes harden and he pushed her face away, getting up and stomping off. Shelby got the uneasy feeling that he might be going to get his death bat, but luckily, someone began knocking on the front door.

"Alllllleeeennnn. Sweetie pie, it's me, Samara. I'm back from my walk." A sweet voice sang outside the house, and Allen's head snapped towards the door. He then looked at Shelby, then back to the door, then back to Shelby, then back to the door.

"Shit." He cursed, taking wide strides over the door as Shelby sank into the couch, glad to finally have Allen's attention diverted to someone else.

Allen opened the door, and smiled widely when he saw Samara on his porch. His smile dropped, however when he saw Alfred standing behind her.

"Well, hello there, port chop." He grumbled, crossing his arms. "Been sleeping around with my doll?"

"Oh, no no no, honey. I would never let anyone touch me but you!" Samara assured him, taking a step forward and stretching up to reach Allen's lips. The brunette met her half way, instantly wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss. After several uncomfortable seconds, Alfred realized that they weren't going to stop anytime soon, and he squeezed past them to get inside.