Random fluff. Russia comes to visit America's house in Wyoming…the house full of lively states, pets, and mayhem in general. But somehow he likes it. Random idea is random; I used the site called to design the house out. Enjoy the random! It's not crack because this is actually what I'd imagine as normal for them…but still random…
I'm too lazy to give them a gender and show all of them, and I expect not all of them can cram into the same house, so don't expect to see fifty kids running around. Sorry. They all developed at different ages because my brain is screwed up and too lazy to calculate ages by something real. And sorry if you live there and I offended you, because I'm not basing these OCs on anyone I know from those states…if I knew anyone from those states anyway…Especially California, I'm sorry. I know you're smarter than I made this out to be. Don't take it personally. I just made up random personalities.
And I don't know how COD or Black Ops work, sorry if I get them wrong too.
What is with America and sliding doors? You'll see what I mean when you read. I honestly have no clue…
EDIT: I went through and tried to clean up some fail sentences I wrote, if you read it the first time you'll know what I meant.
He didn't know what had drawn him here, what had compelled him to visit. It was a strange urge, something to do just for the sake of it. He was never this capricious. He laughed. His little sunflower must be rubbing off on him. He stood, deep in thought, before approaching the small colonial style house.
From what her president had told him, she spent every free moment here caring for her states-her children, rather. The small, two-story house with a smaller third floor attic was shaded by tall trees, ringed by a tall hedge fence, and flanked by what few neighbors they had on either side. A stone path was lined with bleeding heart flowers, the pale pink buds standing upright valiantly in the long grass.
Trees stood in small copses on the other side of the driveway, and even a small cabin was provided. Farther back, a circular pool held a large whale (he would never understand her propensity for attracting animals as friends) and a table shaded by a plum tree sat next to it. A swing hung, lonely, from its post, next to a plastic slide. A sandbox, a basketball hoop, a half pipe-the entire backyard (and parts of the front) were completely devoted to things to entertain them.
A small pond with koi hid under the immense shadow of several pine trees. Then, so large he couldn't understand how he had missed it, a large sailboat rose up on the left of the house (as he could see it from the street). He opened the door and stepped inside.
In the chaos that enveloped the front room, no one noticed his entrance at all. A group of adolescent boys were sprawled over the couch, shouting furious insults and curses that America probably didn't want them saying into their headphones, hands working furiously on their video game controllers. The fireplace crackled merrily and a heavily decorated Christmas tree glittered, oblivious to the virtual carnage only a few feet away.
A girl poked her head through the archway that led to the next room. "Texas, New York, Colorado, Connecticut, Massachusetts- for the love of God, and for the last time, shut the hell up!" She glared at them, and he suddenly recognized her-
"Alaska, when you're playing Black Ops and you're about to be shot in the head by someone, it's kind of hard to shut the hell up." One of the boys replied, not taking his eyes off of the screen. "At least Mom understands. She actually plays."
" Texas, one of these days I'm going to sock you in the face and I am going to laugh."
"Can't wait." He shot back sarcastically.
She heaved a sigh and disappeared. Russia followed her into the dining room. The mahogany floor was all but covered by a thick Oriental rug. A long table with as many chairs as possible crammed around it stood solidly in the middle, and across from him a grandfather clock tolled melancholically. The stereo plugged in next to it seemed to be playing something, but it was inaudible over the din. A spiral staircase wound upwards in one corner of the room. This room was empty, at least. Alaska had left.
Folding doors hung open loosely, giving him the opportunity to slip into the kitchen unnoticed…or as unnoticed as a six foot tall, purple eyed, sadistic, frightening man can be. Around the large stone table were four leather benches. A line of rainbow colored food dishes sat in the corner; next to them was a small wooden stage. The countertop stoves bubbled with untended food as people ran around frantically, trying to make lunch.
"Oh shit, Mom's gonna kill us if she sees this!" A girl with long corn silk hair squealed.
"Can it, California. Just mop it up and move on." Her calm words were strained with effort as she tried to juggle five different tasks at once. California dashed to the corner of the room, picked up the mop and bucket, and wiped up the pale orange spill on the light blue tiles.
"North Dakota," she said to her brother, "will you watch the soup for me? Thanks," she said, before waiting for an answer. He glided over silently, stirring the liquid absentmindedly a few times every now and then. "Alaska?" He shouted into the next room. "Can you get the pets in here? We need to feed them." She shouted back, "I'm taking care of Illinois and Florida can't help today because it's his turn to clean. Just you go find him." He groaned in response and shuffled off, but not before turning the stove off and setting the soup down.
"North!" South Dakota cried after him. "Don't just leave me here to take care of everything!" Her sister shot her an indignant glare. "Excuse me? I'm helping!" They continued to bicker.
Though the kitchen was interesting enough, he moved into the next room.
Carpeted with an eclectic swirly patterned carpet that matched the mood of the room, it was packed with all manners of things; a piano sat in the corner, the bench occupied by two states playing what would have been a nice song if he could hear it; a table football set being argued over and played with vehemently (he hoped they didn't break the table, though it seemed inevitable seeing how hard they slammed each pole into it); a rowing machine occupied by a wiry girl counting under each huffing breath; an air hockey table being used as a set for a puppet show; a furious ping pong game; a couch, which held a studious looking girl reading "The Makings of Modern Warfare: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age;" a set of weights, mostly gone, being lifted by a short boy; and a drum set and guitar, with which a few boys looked as though they were trying to compose a song and failing spectacularly.
The room buzzed with energy. Alaska chased a small boy, looking only eight years old, around the room, weaving through the shouting, screaming mess. "Illinois!" She cried futilely; it only spurred him to run faster. He pushed the pocket doors back into another room. Russia followed them.
The enormous, long room was stuffed with beds, from a crib to bunk beds to full sized mattresses creaking on old wooden frames. Folding screens separated groups of beds from others. Heaps of dirty clothing were spread across the fuzzy beige carpet, and two large wardrobes stood across from each other. Through the windows he could see purple verbena flower bushes lining the entire wall.
Illinois climbed up a bunk and stuck his tongue out at Alaska, who glowered at him and threatened, "If Mom sees you playing with that, she'll ground you for a month!"
A tall, lanky boy, currently making the sheets on a pink bunk bed, groaned in frustration. "Alaska, if you can't keep him out of here when I'm cleaning, it's going to take me twice as long. I already did that half of the room, and now he mussed it all up again!" She pulled at her hair. "Illinois, get down NOW!"
Noticing the crazed look and scary aura around her (at least she inherited that from him, he noted), he crawled down the ladder and let her lead him away meekly. Amused, he drifted after them.
"Oh, not again, Hawai'i, I just barely got you to sleep a few minutes ago!" The girl whom he had seen reading on the couch jumped up, picked up a plush toy from the stack of toy animals beside the couch and dashed through another set of sliding doors.
In this new room, finally an enclave of quiet, simple office things furnished the small space. Through the windows he could see a black hammock swinging in the breeze, and a campfire pit. America was finishing a stack of papers. Three other states huddled around a three-way easel, giggling quietly, and turning when he entered. A little toy train set chugged along determinedly around a circular track, a pudgy toddler watching it make its slow, deliberate circles. A black cat lounged in a basket under the window, soaking up the noon sun.
The child sitting in the playpen beside her desk began to cry. She immediately picked her up and began to soothe her, taking the toy proffered to her by New Jersey. "Florida's cleaning, isn't he, so we can't put her there-oh!" She looked up to see Russia staring at her. "Um, hi, Ivan! You didn't tell me you were coming, I mean, everything's a mess-"
"It's okay." He kind of liked the chaos. It was lively, friendly, not like the lonesomeness he had come to accept.
She blushed. "I don't suppose anyone noticed you walking in, did they?"
"Da, I let myself in."
"That means Colorado forgot to lock the door again. I have to remind him, as usual. Oh, Hawai'i, what are we going to do?" She opened the French doors to her bedroom and set her down on the duvet. She had quieted much already. "Sh, sh, it's okay," she cooed. She looked so motherly, so not-America-ish. He smiled.
Alaska burst in. "Mo-om, Illinois was playing with-" She stared. "Отец!" (that means "father" in Russian)
"Da, I am." He smiled.
"Come on, Alaska, let's go. I think South Dakota and California must have managed to cook something by now, and if not I'll have to help them now before it gets worse." She wrinkled her nose. "You wouldn't believe what they managed to do to the kitchen last time…"
Before leaving, though, she slid open another door. From the laundry room (at least, he assumed it was such from the limited contents he could see through the door) bounded five dogs. She petted each and smiled. "Come on, time for lunch!"
She led the way out of the room, holding Hawai'i once again, back to the kitchen, talking over the din. "This house is so much like a maze; the doors are all randomly placed, because it was all added on over time. I started with the kitchen, dining room, and the front room, and kind of added on from there. The hedges I had to move one side to add the giant bedroom there, and of course there's the upstairs. And then we built the pool, for Whale, and I think we'll have to get a bigger one…" He let her voice wash over in waves, somehow paying attention while not.
A squeal came from the kitchen. Then, in an exasperated voice: "Oh, California, what did you do now?"
"Nothing, just burned my finger, is all. I'm okay!"
America swept into the room, setting the plates on the table and placing whatever they'd already finished on the table; this included large pots of soup, sandwiches, corn, and broccoli. "Are you guys doing alright?"
"Of course, of course," South Dakota snapped irritatedly. "Everything's under control. You can call everyone, I guess."
"Sounds okay to me. Ivan, you might not want to stand right next to me while I scream." he backed away swiftly, watching in awe as she opened her mouth and shrieked, "LUNCH! LAST ONE HERE WASHES DISHES!" She winked. "It's the only way to get them to pay attention." What ensued was a massive rush to the two tables.
After finally seating everyone (and getting around to scolding Illinois, after much beseeching on Alaska's part), they ate. "You can sit here," she said to Russia, indicating a chair before pushing the folding doors wide open and glaring at them. "One fight and you're all in trouble." She continued to float between rooms, alternating between scoldings and eating whatever was left over.
Everyone filed over to carry their dishes to the sink. Russia smiled. Even in their insane mayhem, they could be cute.
"What next?" He asked, after everything had been cleaned.
She gave him her best vampire smile. "We set them loose."
!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!
True to her words, they were set loose to do as they wished. Most of whatever paperwork they had was easy or eliminated altogether, seeing as some could barely write their own names yet. Another meal, the rest of the evening, and finally their incessant laughter and energy began to fade. One by one, they shuffled to their respective beds, filling the side room and the upstairs. The quiet pervaded the house.
He followed her to her room, pausing awkwardly on the threshold. She threw a pile of clothes at him. "They might not fit, but they're the biggest clothes I have just lying around." Without another word, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed yet another sliding door.
He took the chance to look around her bedroom more closely. A dresser stood in the corner closest to the doors, and beside it stood a short bookshelf piled with books and boxes, and above was a three-pane window. Beneath it was a bed of phlox, a kind of flowery shrub. A pendent lamp hung overhead, and in the corner stood a worn blue bean bag. The plush carpet had a modern red, gold, and black pattern of concentric circles and ovals. Another folding screen stood against one wall, presumably to dress behind. A clothes tree with various hats and colorful clothes stood in the other corner. The bed, king sized, was covered with a dark red duvet and on the other side of it was a window that looked out from under an awning to the rest of the backyard. The nightstand held an alarm clock and an open book.
She stepped out of the bathroom, short hair wet and tousled, and wearing an old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. "You can go in if you want-mmph!" He pulled her into a crushing hug.
"Seeing you act motherly and kind like that is oddly appealing." He inhaled the scent of her hair, smiling, before releasing her and striding off into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!
He settled into the soft mattress, nuzzling her cheek, platinum blond hair still damp. He pulled her closer, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
"How long are you allowed to stay, then?" She turned in his embrace to face him more easily, blue eyes questioning purple.
He mumbled incoherently. "Where's the next meeting going to be? I wasn't paying attention when my boss told me."
She laughed briefly, a twinkling high pitched sound that sent warmth shooting down his spine. "It's here, silly. You can stay all through the conference, although it'll be in the capital." She frowned. "The last time, I left Maine in charge, and when I came back the place was being ruled by New York. He's pushy but effective when it comes to managing things."
"Mm." Determined not to let this discussion wear on much longer, he pulled her into a deep kiss, relishing the contact after so long just sitting alone.
As he pulled back to breath, she laughed again. "You don't particularly feel like talking, do you?"
"It depends what we're saying," he shot back.
!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!
He woke up to the blinding light-and a cold bed. Growling in irritation, he sat up, pulling his clothes on quickly. The smell of breakfast-were those pancakes? maple syrup? eggs?-quickly filled the house with it aroma.
America handed him a cup of coffee, smiling briefly before returning to the food on the stoves.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." She teased him.
"Aagh, the mush burns my eyes!" New York walked in, hair tousled. He grinned too, and took a mug of coffee and gulping it down before helping set the tables.
She looked up once more. "You like it here, then?"
"Da. It feels like home." A warm glow flooded him.
Home. He liked the sound of that.
Oh, sweet fluff. How I have missed you.