A/N: Happy Russia Day! ^^ ...I don't really know what it is, but I know it's a holiday in Russia! I suppose it's a bit like America's 4th of July... "We're so awesome~! We're so awesome~! Let's blow some stuff up and get drunk!" ...I guess... Anyway! On this glorious day, I present to you the debut of my first Hetalia fanfic: Russia's Road Trip! I have loads of other APH fanfics in the works (Remove this, YouTube! Hahaha!), so I'll be writing most of the summer! I'll really try to finish up some of my old stuff!
Disclaimer: None of them are... are... mine! (WAH!)
Enjoy!
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Italy was known to eat pasta. Germany was known to be strict. Japan was known to read the atmosphere. America was known to eat hamburgers. England was known to be tsundere. France was known to- well, you get the point. When it came down to it, everyone had even just one thing that stood out about them (except for Canada). Ivan wondered what his was. People avoid him, that didn't really make sense as a characteristic, though... He wears a scarf? Maybe... He likes vodka? No, a lot of the other nations liked vodka too.
Ivan stretched his legs, and looked out over the fields. In his mind, he pictured a wide dirt road with a vast ocean of sunflowers on the other side; the sun shining warmly from behind a fluffy cloud. What he saw, however, was a paved, filthy, dark road, water pooling a bit on the side. The dark sky loomed above, taunting him. And all he saw was an empty field.
Instead of doing what he normally would (which was quickly look around for Belarus, then become depressed over his unhappy surroundings), Ivan stood up.
"I," he declared to the strange man walking by on the other side of the road and anyone else nearby who'd listen, "am going to find that place!"
The odd man across the street looked confused. "What place?" he shouted back.
"The place where the sun shines and there are fields of sunflowers everywhere! The place I dream of! Where the vodka's good and I can live happily!" Ivan yelled enthusiastically back.
"Oh," the man said, starting to walk away, "good luck with that."
As Ivan waved goodbye happily to the rather unusual man, Francis' head popped out of the nearby bushes.
"Did I hear that right?" he said, getting Ivan's attention. "You want to live somewhere else?"
"Yeah!" Ivan exclaimed cheerfully, before getting a confused look on his face. "Why are you in the bushes?"
"I'm stalking you." Francis answered matter-of-factly.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot..." Ivan replied, zoning out for a second. "What's wrong with moving?" he asked, coming back to reality.
"Well, it's not that exactly," Francis explained, "it's more of a rule. How can I say this...?" After considering it for a moment, Francis continued, "You're Russia, yeah?"
"Yeah..." Ivan said slowly.
"It just wouldn't be Russia without Russia. You're the spirit, the embodiment of Russia. You are Ivan, but you're job is to be Russia." Francis clarified.
"I see..." Ivan said, thinking. "Has anyone ever tried to move out of their given country for longer than a trip?" he asked suddenly.
Caught off-guard, Francis delayed before replying. "Well... no. Not really. I mean, Gilbert moved in with Ludwig, but he's not a country anymore; the rules don't apply to him now."
"Then how do you know a country can't leave itself?" Ivan wondered aloud.
"It's common sense, Ivan! You can't run from your reflection; you are Russia, Russia is you." Francis said with a sense of finality. "Now, please excuse me, but it's time for me to stalk Canada."
"Who?" Ivan asked, breaking out of his thoughtful reverie.
"Never mind..." Francis said, turning and starting to walk away before he was grabbed by the much taller nation. "Ivan! Let go!" Francis said, squirming.
Ivan turned France so they were facing each other and held him half a foot away. Staring at the quite grumpy man intensely, Ivan leaned in so they were barely an inch apart.
"Will you go on a road trip with me, Francis?" he whispered.
"Why?" Francis whispered back in the same intensity.
"Because I want to find my dream land and be the first nation to live outside their country!" Ivan shouted, dropping France and hugging him to the point of immanent death-by-hug.
"Fine, fine!" Francis shouted, his voice muffled due to the fact that he was being crushed by a yandere Russian.
"Oh, sorry, what was that?" Ivan said quickly, letting the Frenchman go.
Francis brushed off his clothes, then said, without looking up, "Fine. I'll go on a road trip with you."
"Thanks, Franci-" Ivan said, moving in to hug Francis again, before the man's hand stopped him.
"But," Francis stared at him sternly, "I'm not going alone. You bring a few of your friends; I'll bring a few of mine. We'll meet here at four, I'll bring the car."
"But that's only," Ivan checked his watch again, "thirty minutes."
"Fine," Francis rolled his eyes, "we'll meet here at four-fifteen."
"That's much better." the Russian said, skipping away.
Francis rubbed his temple; This may be the worst idea I've ever had...
000
"Toris! Toris! Guess what!" Ivan said, bursting through the front door and looking around wildly for his favorite Lithuanian. "Oh, you're here, Feliks..." he said, becoming gloomy and pronouncing the Polish man's name as one would the word putrid. "Where's Toris?"
"Like, why should I tell you?" Feliks replied, not even glancing up from his jigsaw puzzle.
"Because I want to know!" Ivan yelled, sweeping the puzzle pieces into the air.
Feliks huffed, "You know I'm not afraid of you, right?"
Ivan leaned down very close to him. "I know." he said in a deadly tone, his purple aura becoming menacing. "But I still want to know." he said backing away and smiling.
"How about no?" Feliks asked, smirking.
"Fine," Ivan said, heading for the door, "but I might let a few secrets slip... you know which ones I mean, don't you?"
The Polish man blushed, and quickly bowed his head as he started to pick up the puzzle pieces on the floor. "Fine, you idiot. He went out for a walk about five minutes ago."
Ivan stood silently and unmoving by the door, facing away from Feliks. Feliks stayed silent for fear he might have spoken back to the much, much, taller nation one too many times.
Suddenly, the Russian turned around and, staring at Feliks, asked very seriously: "Do you want to go on a road trip with me, Francis, and Toris?"
Feliks gave him a look that said "No, that is the thing I would like to do least. I would rather ask America why he thinks he's the best." But said nothing aloud. Then, he realized something. Ivan was a abusive madman, Francis was more often than not a drunk pervert, and Toris would be trapped with them!
Quickly brightening up, Feliks replied. "Of course! I've, like, always wanted to go on a road trip!" I'll protect Toris if it's the last thing I do!
"Good!" Ivan exclaimed, "Could you pack for you and Toris? I have to go ask him if he wants to go. Thanks, bye!"
Before Feliks could protest, Ivan was already out the door.
But, wait... DAMN THAT RUSSIAN! And with that, he stormed upstairs to pack. That damn Russian, tricking me like that... he thought angrily as he shoved a few pairs of pants in one of Toris' old suitcases.
A familiar-looking garment sitting in the closet caught his eye; it was one of his dresses. I must have left it here... he thought, picking it up.
Eh, might as well bring it... he thought as he shoved it in the suitcase as well.