A Little Too Not Over You
Iceland wasn't doing anything in particular, at least not according to him. But in Norway's opinion however, he was definitely doing something. That something being, in all seriousness, moping. And frankly, it pissed Norway off. A lot.
He watched his brother with a mixture of annoyance and flat out frustration, his eyebrow starting to twitch as time wore on. Iceland sat on the couch for awhile, staring blankly at his hands and then at the clock, from one to the other over and over. For awhile, he got up and went outside, mumbling an excuse about Puffin needing fresh air. In the end, he just sat on the front step for over an hour with the bird on his lap before wandering back inside again to check the clock for what must have been the millionth time that day.
Norway tried his best to maintain his composure when Iceland began to fiddle with the older twin's hair, putting in different clips and barrettes absentmindedly. The taller of the brothers put a reign on his instincts and sat still while Iceland did this, even when he looked up to see an ugly rainbow thing attached to his ash-brown hair. It really wasn't his place to snap this time; at least that's what he kept telling himself. It wasn't working so well.
"So," he said finally, voice sharp as he tugged the horrid rainbow thing from his hair, "You're just going to sit here and pout all day, is that it?"
Iceland blinked and looked up, appearing vaguely surprised, "Umm . . . What?"
"The wedding's today, isn't it?" Norway went on, though he knew very well that Iceland was just feigning ignorance. "Well, tomorrow if we count the time difference." He raised a hand and flicked the stray hairs away from his left ear with a bored look, "You're not going to go?"
The white haired nation narrowed his eyes, "I wasn't invited, Norway."
"Doesn't mean that you can't go," Norway snorted, putting an X shaped pin in his hair to keep it out of his eyes, "just crash the damn thing."
"You know very well that I can't do that," Iceland growled, "we're countries, Norway. It's not so much a wedding as it is an alliance. Breaking an alliance would mean I'm asking for my own death. My boss would kill me if we went to war for something like this."
Norway looked slightly amused at the wording of his brother's excuse, "You're boss would be mad? So that means that you would be willing to go to war just to stop this whole thing?" He almost smiled as his brother mumbled something and stared at the ground. He held his silence for a moment, thinking about the inevitable consequences of such a thing, "You're right though it would mean war, probably. But you do realize that both America and England would almost instantly back you up. France too, since England would be on your side. Three world powers right off the bat. And Japan would be right there as well, since he and that silly America are so close. And Germany is sort of obligated to follow that guy too, and where there's Germany, you get Italy." He held up his fingers, showing the odds, "Denmark and I are here too. And Finland and Sweden wouldn't just leave you in the dust either." He lowered his hands with a sigh, "Sounds to me like that's a war you can win. So just go for it already. Because if you keep moping around here, I might have to strangle you." Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out three, slightly wrinkled strips of paper, "Look, plane tickets . . ." He teased, "Last chance in three . . . Two . . . O-"
"All right, I'll go!" Iceland yelled at the last second, snatching a ticket from the older twin.
"Good," Norway smirked, "now let's go crash a wedding."
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
Canada was going to be sick. Again. He had his head in his hands, elbows resting on the edge of the toilet seat as he struggled to keep what remained of his stomach inside his body.
America was crouched beside him, rubbing his twin's back comfortingly "Hey, hey . . . It's not that bad . . ." He bit his lip, as if wondering if he'd act similarly in such a situation.
"You're not the one that has to marry Russia," Canada groaned, closing his eyes. He sighed and opened one of them after an awkward moment of silence, "Where's Kumayoshi?"
"Kumajiro," America reminded gently, "He's greeting everyone right now, so he'll be back sooner or later." He paused, "But you know . . . Ivan's not that bad . . ."
The younger twin made a face as he stared up at his brother with bleary eyes, "I practically live next door to him, Alfred. I think I know the situation a bit better than you." He dropped his head back onto the toilet seat again, "But if you like him so much, you marry him."
"No can do," Alfred grinned, "I'm already married." He held up his left hand to display a light silver ring with pride, "And besides that point, Ivan's my best friend, so I know he's not that bad. Prussia came out all right, didn't he?" he waved a hand as if this solved the whole matter.
Matthew closed his eyes again; chin resting on the porcelain rim, "Prussia is strong though. And bedside's that, he actually . . . No, never mind," he sighed heavily. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten the trauma Lithuania went through though. Finland too. None of that was pretty, Alfred. And I'm just like them, doomed. Doomed with a capital D."
Alfred rolled his eyes, "You'll be fine. And anyways, that was what the old Ivan was like, he's different now." He chewed on his lip again as Canada shot him a disbelieving look, "Oh for Christ's sake, Mattie! You look at me as if this is somehow my fault!" He blew out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his sandy blond hair and lowering his gaze, "Look, it'll be over before you know it, treaties and alliances like this never last too long anyways. Besides," he smiled, "It's not like you were in love with someone else, right?" An uncomfortable silence lapsed between them, and America lowered his hand and pulled at the collar of his tuxedo awkwardly, "D-did you?"
"No . . ." Canada said quietly after another long silence, "No . . . I didn't."
"That's good," America laughed nervously, "Because it would probably suck if you were in love with someone else when you're getting married to Russia."
"Yeah," the younger twin muttered, "Yeah it would."
America smiled, completely oblivious as usual, and patted his brother's back, "Well, I have to go get ready then, cause I'm both yours and Russia's best man!" He winked, "And you had better get dressed Mattie, can't be late for your own wedding, can you." He stood up, pumping his fist in the air before running out of the room with and excited whoop.
Canada waited until his older brother's footsteps had faded away before he let his head thunk down on the toilet seat again. He was going to die, he just knew it. Any minute now would be great, then he wouldn't have to go through with this stupidity. Sighing deeply, he blinked and looked up as someone knocked on the door, "Come in," he groaned.
Silver hair and crimson eyes appeared around the corner of the door as it creaked open slowly. Prussia groaned in exasperation when he caught sight of the blond practically draped over the toilet and stepped into the room, closing the door fully behind him. "Jesus Mattie," he muttered, crouching down to heave the younger nation away from the toilet, "you're on in half an hour and you're not even dressed yet!"
"Sorry," Canada whispered, swaying a bit as Prussia stood him up in the middle of the room.
Gilbert sighed, "No, don't worry about it. I know the feeling, believe me," he grinned, a smile that looked strangely false to Matthew. "Right then," he said when Canada merely stood there, apparently incapable of movement, "Arms up!" he declared, catching the bottom of the blonde's hoodie. Matthew complied and allowed the garment to be tugged off, eyes glazed as his mind focused on other thoughts. His pants came off too after a moment, and a pair of white suit pants went on, followed by a light blue button up dress shirt and the jacket.
Prussia was in front of him again after a moment, tying a dark blue tie around his neck, a far off look slipping into his eyes. "You know, Mattie? This was the exact same suit I wore when I got married to that guy."
Canada's eyebrows furrowed and tears formed beneath his glasses, something inside him finally snapping, "I'm sorry . . ." He whispered again, "I'm sorry . . ."
The albino smiled, "What for?" He flicked a few of the tears away with a light brush of his hand, "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Mattie."
Matthew rubbed a hand across his eyes, "Yes I do!" He wailed, "You're sad because of me, Prussia! Because it should be you wearing this suit! Not me!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa-" Prussia started, but was cut short as Canada grabbed the front of his suit, shaking him slightly.
"You can stop it! Right? You can object, break the alliance-" the blonde's was filled with last minute desperation.
"Mattie-"
"I'm not going to marry him! My own happiness is one thing to sacrifice, but yours is another! You love hi-"
"Mattie!"
Canada visibly shuddered at the unusually dangerous tone, closing his mouth immediately.
Prussia's hand went to his hair, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through it, leaving a frustrated look on his face, "Mattie . . . I'm not a nation anymore. You know that. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to go against any of this." He smiled sadly; opening crimson eyes again, "Anyways . . . Isn't it about time we got out there?" He laughed as Canada blanched, "Don't worry, don't worry. Ivan's not that bad and the whole alliance will be over before you know it. These things never last long."
Matthew drew in a shaky breath and nodded slowly, "Yeah. You're right."
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
Iceland was running as soon as they'd stepped off the plane, which wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do considering where they were. Security literally tackled him to the ground. And it was only after Denmark had showed them an I.D claiming that they were in fact, very important people despite the fact that a regular security guard Dulles airport had no knowledge of living nations. That and, he had his axe over his shoulder after picking it up from the baggage area was enough to convince almost anyone. He'd explained it in a cool voice too, that this was an "emergency," with dark, rather scary eyes. One security guard had fainted.
So now they were bolting down the streets of Washington D.C. at breakneck speed. Denmark was breathing hard and had an annoyed look on his face about the whole situation. "Why are we running again, Norge?" he asked between pants, shifting his axe on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.
"Because Ice is going to crash a wedding. I told you this on the plane, idiot," Norway huffed.
"But this whole thing is overrated," Denmark whined.
Norway's eyes narrowed, "If you found out that I was getting married to Russia, what would you do?" he prompted.
"Chop him into tiny pieces," Denmark growled immediately.
The older of the Baltic twins rolled his eyes, "I'm sure you would. It's the same concept for Iceland, just without the chopping." He grimaced, "And on second thought, on the off chance such a thing were to happen, you're not allowed to chop anyone up."
"Aww . . . Why not?" Denmark complained, glancing forlornly at his axe.
"Because it's gross and you'd be a wanted criminal whether you saved me or not," Norway snorted. He sighed as Denmark gave him a disappointed look, his lower lip sticking out, and turned his attention back to his sibling, "Ice! Turn right here! It's a shortcut!" he called.
They tore down a small back alley and Iceland gave an audible sigh of relief as the church suddenly came into view not far away, "We might just make it!" he yelled over his shoulder, a hopeful grin on his face.
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
Matthew stared at his feet as he waited inside the lobby of the church, his hands clenched into the slick white fabric of his dress pants. Ivan was standing beside him, smiling absently to himself as the clock ticked behind them. The blond purposely kept his eyes away from the other, avoiding the creepy looks he'd receive if he so much as looked at Russia out of the corner of his eye. The taller nation seemed to be perpetually watching him, though he seemed to be off in his own little world, humming a nameless tune. In all truth, it freaked Canada out.
After a few moments, England appeared briefly in the doorway to the chapel, motioning for the older country. Russia laughed excitedly, that usually spine tingling "kolkolkolkolkol," that made Canada shudder from head to toe. He turned towards his soon to be spouse and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder, "Yata, see you soon then . . . Umm . . ."
"Canada," the blond muttered dejectedly, "my name is Canada."
Ivan grinned as if he'd known this all along, while England merely looked confused, as if just now noticing the younger nation. "Right, Canada," Russia laughed. "See you soon then!" he practically skipped through the double doors into the chapel, scarf swirling out behind him since he'd had a fit when they told him not to wear it.
The blond kept staring at the floor when Belarus and Kumajiro walked past, Russia's sister tossing flowers as she went while the polar bear carried a pair of rings on a fancy silk pillow. Actually, Natalia's tossing was much more like wadding up the petals and winging them at various people in the audience, though she only cast an ordinary glance at Canada himself. He'd flinched slightly when she had passed all the same, expecting a scathing remark about how her brother belonged to her and her alone. At the moment, he was placing his thanks for his life in that issue with America, and Natalia's strange companionship with him.
Tears began to well up in the blonde's eyes again as France suddenly appeared beside him, making a sympathetic shushing sound. "Oh cherie," he soothed, wiping the tears away before they could fall with his kerchief, "Shh . . . Don't cry, cherie. Please don't cry." He smiled kindly, wrapping his arms around the nation he had raised, "It's all right. If he ever hurts you in any way, I'll be right there in an instant, okay?"
Francis hugged him closer when the younger blond merely sucked in a choked breath in reply. "I remember when you were small enough for me to hold in one arm," he murmured softly. "But you're bigger now, Matthew. You have to be strong, like the country you are. Walk out there standing tall, and somehow, everything will turn out all right in the end." He pulled away, smiling gently as he held out his arm towards the other, "Now, I'm here to escort you down the aisle, mon cherie. So shall we?"
Matthew gave him a small, hesitant smile, "Yeah, let's get it over with."
The blond took the time to look around at the gathered people and nations with vague interest as he and Francis walked down the aisle. Switzerland and Liechtenstein were near the back, the younger of the pair casting the classic I feel for you look as he passed. Vash just looked annoyed. Poland and the Baltic trio were only a row or so in front of them, the blond dressed in a very frilly pink dress and looking overly smug. Probably from relief that it wasn't Lithuania walking down the aisle again. Korea and Hong Kong were in the row across from them, China sitting on the far side of his younger siblings with his hands over his ears as the other two argued softly. Finland and Sweden were somewhere around the middle of the pews, Sealand sitting between them with Hanatamago on his lap. Greece was a little farther up, fast asleep even though Spain and Romano were bickering loudly one seat over and Taiwan was half in his lap as she played with one of his cats. Turkey was in the row in front of him, turned around in his seat and shooting rubber bands at the sleeping country. Ukraine was across the aisle, talking softly with Vietnam, Seychelles, and Hungary. The latter of which seemed to be bragging about how handsome Austria looked in his holy robes as he conducted the ceremony. In the very front row was Germany and Italy on one side, the taller of the pair looking exhausted as Italy asked about fancy wedding cakes. On the other side was England, who simply nodded to him as he passed. And beside England was Japan, casting him the same sympathetic look Liechtenstein had before turning back to the drowsy blond baby in his arms, fixing the child's rabbit eared hood. Prussia sat on Kiku's other side and flashed Canada a brief thumbs up, though the younger nation could see the sadness behind the motion all the same.
Francis gave his hand a comforting squeeze before taking a seat in the front with England. And Canada found himself left alone at the altar with Russia, who was still grinning from ear to ear. Austria came to stand in front of them to begin the nuptials, reading the traditional spiel from a book balanced in his hand. Alfred was standing somewhere off to the side of the altar with Belarus and Kumajiro, looking more than a little bored as the ceremony began.
"We are gathered here today . . ."
Matthew kept his eyes religiously trained to the floor, Austria's voice becoming nothing more than a far off drone to his ears. After a few minutes, he turned his gaze to Japan out of the corners of his eyes. He watched as the oriental nation turned the program into a paper crane with slow and careful movements before giving it to the child in his arms just as the baby began to get fussy. He cast a swift glance at his brother and smiled slightly when he noticed the older blond gazing fondly at Kiku and the infant. But in truth, the scene only reminded Canada that he'd probably never get to see his nephew's first steps if he was living with Russia. It would be one more thing out of many that he'd miss.
He turned to Austria again as the older nation said, "Do you, Russia, take . . . Um . . ."
"Canada," Matthew whispered remorsefully, "my name is Canada."
"Er, yes," Austria coughed, feigning clearing his throat, "Do you take Canada to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold. For better or for worse, in sickness and in heath, till death do you part?" He didn't notice Canada's visible gulp at the "death" part.
"Yata, I do!" Russia replied instantly.
"And do you . . . Umm . . ." Austria started.
"I'm Canada," the blond repeated, tears beginning to well in his eyes, "Canada."
"Do you, Canada, take Russia to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"
"I . . ." Canada began, his throat closing around the words. "I . . ." he blinked back the tears, trying to convince himself that stalling wouldn't change the outcome of the situation. "I d-"
"Stop!"
The doors swung open with a bang that echoed through the chapel, and Matthew's sentence was cut off as he closed his mouth and jerked his head around to see what was going on. His heart stopped, and he sucked in a shaky, startled breath, disbelief and surprise clear on his face.
Iceland stood panting in the doorway, one hand still pressed against one of the wooden double doors, his arms shaking. Norway and Denmark were standing slightly behind him. The taller of the two was smirking with his hefty axe swung over one shoulder and Norway looked more than a little pleased with their perfect timing.
Austria took a step forward, eyebrow twitching with annoyance, "What right do you have to come in here in the middle of a holy ceremony?" he huffed, apparently furious.
The ivory haired man was still breathing hard, his hands falling to his knees in an effort to remain standing, "What . . . Right do I have?" he repeated, his tone unusually dangerous, "What right do I have?" Iceland raised lavender eyes to glare at Roderich, "More right than that Commi-Bastard standing at the altar."
Russia merely smiled at the comment, as if he'd expected nothing less, though it had been many years since he'd held that government. "I had a feeling you'd come," he smirked, tightening his scarf with one hand absentmindedly as he spoke, "You were almost too late, weren't you."
"Then why didn't you bother to invite me?" Iceland hissed venomously.
The taller nation looked amused, "Because then you would have simply stood by and watched of course. The drama is much more exciting and romantic, don't you think?" he laughed. "So what were you about to say?" he prompted, directing his gaze at Canada again.
"Umm . . ." The blond stared at him, then at Iceland, "I . . ."
"Don't you dare say anything!" Iceland yelled, taking a step closer, "Don't answer him!"
Ivan laughed again, "Go on, you can't break our treaty, right . . . Er . . ."
"His name is Canada you asshole! At least remember that much if you plan to marry him!" Iceland growled. He stood up straight, holding out a hand towards the altar, "So you'd better be saying 'I don't,' Mattie. Because I sort of just ran halfway across the world to steal you away."
Matthew's eyes flicked back and forth between Russia and Iceland, and passed over, for half a second, Prussia. The silver haired nation simply smiled encouragingly at him, and gave him a light wave. It only took the blond a heartbeat to decide, and he picked up a bouquet of flowers off the later and hurled them at Russia before bolting back down the aisle. "Go!" he exclaimed, grabbing Iceland's hand just as he heard the crowd begin to erupt behind them with startled chatter. The doors closed seconds after they skidded out into the lobby, Denmark laughing uproariously on the other side.
"What, you really wanna get past me?" Denmark smirked, taking his axe from his shoulder as Russia made a move to follow his would-be-spouse. The blond cast Norway a glance, and in all seriousness, asked, "Is chopping okay now?"
Norway blinked, "Only if he tries to go after them," he replied in a similar tone.
Near the front of the room, America sat down on the pew beside Japan, laughing hysterically. "Oh man," he gasped, "that was too great! I never expected that in a million years!"
Kiku rolled his eyes, "That's because you're oblivious. Russia's more perceptive than you, and that's saying a lot." He shook his head as Alfred merely stared at him, bemused, "Let me put it this way. If I had been marrying Ivan today, what would you have done?"
A murderous look came into America's eyes, "Death penalty," he muttered.
Japan chuckled, "Yes, I guessed as much. But that's the same kind of predicament Iceland found himself in with your brother." He lifted the dozing baby off of his lap, passing him to the blond, "But I think we're okay, hmm?"
America grinned, taking the child in one arm and looping the other around Kiku's shoulders, "Yeah." He turned to look back at the crowd still gathered by the doors, Denmark stubbornly barring their ways. "So, when do you think those two will be back?"
Japan glanced at the blonde's watch, "An hour or so maybe. We can't have the cake go to waste after all, so they'll come back eventually." He leaned on America's shoulder, "Plus, I don't think Russia's actually mad about the whole thing."
"He's not?"
The dark haired man sighed. There wasn't really any point in trying to explain things like this to Alfred, ever.
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
It was beginning to rain outside. People opened umbrellas or shuffled under overhangs and archways, sheltering from the sudden downpour. No one took notice of the two people running down the sidewalk, except for when their rapid steps splashed puddle water on passerby. They slid across slick concrete, hand and hand, tears and rain and laughter all mixed together.
Canada pulled the other into a nearby alleyway, letting go of his hand to pull his glasses off and shake the water from them. Iceland leaned against the tall brick wall, laughing between gasps for air. "Jeeze, we're completely soaked now," the older country laughed, running a hand though his ivory hair in a futile effort to shake some of the water loose.
The blond smiled, pulling his glasses back on, "It's okay. I'd much rather be soaking wet than married to Russia." He pressed his palm against the bricks, bending down the slight distance between them, "Thank you for that."
Iceland blushed and rolled his eyes, "Idiot . . . Did you think I wouldn't come? After all this time I've spent with you over the years. Even . . . Even if we were just acquaintances . . ." He looked away, "I knew you. I noticed you, even when no one else did. I . . . I couldn't just let you slip away . . ." Iceland sighed, "God, that sounds so stupid."
Matthew grinned, "No, it's not stupid." He shifted his hand slightly against the wall, "Actually, I . . . I've liked you too . . . For awhile now." He directed his eyes at cloudy sky, "I . . . Didn't think I'd get to see you again."
"I'm here now," Iceland whispered.
"Yeah . . ." Canada laughed quietly, looking at the other nation again, "So, umm, can I kiss you?"
"What?"
"Too late," the blond leaned forward, catching the other's lips against his own, his hand falling from the wall to Iceland's waist. The shorter nation pulled back after a moment, "H-hey . . ."
Canada merely smiled again, tugging him closer as he captured his lips again, "No protests," he whispered. "Until we go back, let's just be cliché and kiss in the rain."
^-^ ^-^ ^-^
Prussia was watching Russia from a distance. Everyone else had eventually wandered over the reception room, reminding Denmark about the food to make him let them pass. None had bothered to chase after Canada and Iceland, and it seemed that half of them had forgotten who they were supposed to chase after in the first place. But that wasn't too surprising.
So Gilbert sat where he'd been the entire ceremony, in the very front row. Except that now he was turned in his seat with his arms dangling over the back of the wooden pew as he observed the other nation. Russia was crouched near the back of the chapel, staring at the edge of his scarf which had gotten torn by the thorns on the flowers that Canada had thrown at him earlier. He didn't speak, but merely stared at it, eyes glazed with something the albino had only seen a few times in his long life. Right now, he could very clearly see that Ivan was lost.
The taller country didn't look up as Prussia approached, he probably didn't even notice his footsteps, though they weren't muffled in the slightest. It was only when he kneeled down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder, that Ivan's head jerked up. He stared at Gilbert in confusion for a moment as the other man held out a hand for the scarf. If anyone else had been around to see it, they wouldn't have believed it when Ivan pulled the item off and handed it to the older nation. No one got away with so much as touching the scarf, let alone holding it.
Gilbert fished a small sewing kit out of his breast pocket on his dark suit, running a thread through a needle as he examined the scarf, "It's not too bad," he said after a moment's pause as he tied off a knot and began to stitch it. "Just a few spots here and there on the ends and one over here," he pointed the needle towards a near microscopic hole a bit farther up, "and it'll be okay." He tore the thread off with his teeth when he finished, pocketing the kit. "No damage done, right Ivan?" he smiled, wrapping the scarf back around the larger nation's neck.
Ivan sat up straight, touching the edge that had been ripped gingerly, "My boss is gonna be mad at me," he whispered, an out of place smile on his face, "Even if I did plan for Iceland to get in the way, that wasn't how my boss wanted it."
Prussia sat back on his heels, "But that's all right, isn't it? You . . . You didn't really love Mattie . . . Did you?"
Russia rolled his eyes, "No, I didn't. I don't really know what love is anyways, so I've never loved," he blinked in slight surprise at the hurt look that crossed Gilbert's face.
"Do you want me to tell you?" Prussia asked softly, "What love is?" He smiled softly and didn't wait for a reply, "Love is something that's precious to you. You don't let other people touch it or hold it."
"Like my scarf?"
Gilbert laughed, "Ukraine was the one that gave you that scarf, if I recall, correct? It's not the scarf that's precious to you, it's your sisters. If she gave you a new scarf today, you'd trash this one, right?"
"Umm . . ."
"Love is trust," Prussia went on. "Trust that allows someone to get close to you, close enough for you to let them touch those precious things that you love." He swallowed, lowering his gaze, "Love is wanting to be near someone forever."
The taller nation raised an eyebrow, "I thought love was the same as sex."
Prussia snorted, "Not for you, no. You have sex with everyone, just like that idiot France."
Ivan tilted his head to the side, "So you're not supposed to have sex with everyone?"
"Definitely not."
"Hmm . . ." Russia stared at him contemplatively, "I love you then, I suppose."
The albino's eyes widened, and he stumbled to his feet, "Wah . . . What?!"
"My scarf is precious, and you're the only one I let fix it," Russia explained calmly. "And I like spending time with you, that's why I captured you after the second Great War after all." He smiled, "Did you know? I've really liked you all along, Gilbert. You remind me of sunflowers and summer all year round. That makes you precious to me. I didn't know that that's what love was."
"Ivan . . ."
Russia cut him off by throwing the scarf around both their necks, bringing the albino awkwardly close, "So it's okay, da? My boss won't be mad as long as I married somebody today."
"I don't want that to be the reason again idio-" He was silenced with a determined kiss, and his fingers went from trying to push the other away to tangle in his hair. When they pulled apart, he narrowed his crimson eyes, "I love you too, moron."
"Spasibo, liability," Ivan replied.
RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE
This took FOREVER! D: seriously. Like a week. Mostly because I was procrastinating. :p new chapters of Little Drop Of Healing and One Last Fairytale soon (This week hopefully). But Notes of a Love Song will be a bit later. I'm sorta stuck. (mostly because it's all sex that chapter, not that you mind, lolz.)
Anywho, I got the idea for this from a random CanIce vid I saw. And the song Crashed The Wedding by Busted, which was the layout for the fic. :D and I added Russia/Prussia because if I made Canada marry Russia, then Prussia had to be lurking in there somewhere with a plot all his own, Hahahahaha.
Oh, and that baby is America and Japan's kid. Yup. I saw all these fan arts of him, and they were all the same, so I wanted to write about him. Seriously, there's all these fan arts on pixiv of the baby with America's looks and a pink rabbit hoddie, way cute. They have like, an official fannon child. Lolz.