Hey, everybody! NordicFlags here! This my first fic here, so please go easy on me with the reviews! Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, Denmark and the other Nordics would have a LOT more screen time...say, the whole show would be about them. *bricked*
Warnings: Mild language, some adult themes (in later chapters; no lemon though), and Sweden's dialogue (also in later chapters)
Idly, Anya Marchese strummed her delicate pale fingers against the desk in front of her as she took her seat. It was another boring day in her senior class, and she was looking forward eagerly to the final bell.
'At least I can get out of here sooner today,' she thought. 'Thank God for minimum days on Fridays.'
Someone tugged at her silver hair, and she twitched an eye in irritation. Turning around, she fixated piercing green eyes on the culprit. The boy shrunk under her gaze, and she relented.
'I hate how everyone tugs at my hair. It's like they've never seen silver hair before.'
She was only fooling herself, she knew that. No one in the entire Bodega Bay High School body had hair like hers; or eyes, for that matter. They were like emeralds set in her head, and not only that, but they had a blue streak in them that rivaled the sea on a good day.
With a sigh, Anya ran a hand through said hair and prayed that the torture known as Calculus would end quickly.
Her prayer was answered. In what seemed like minutes, the final bell rang, and she walked as quickly as she could to her car. Her 6'0 frame and her pale skin was the only evidence of her Danish heritage, and it made her stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone else she knew were all tanned beautifully; only the goth kids were her shade of pale. Not only that, but she was known for her serious nature and she rarely smiled at anyone. Needless to say, she didn't have many friends.
Anya let out a relieved breath of air, and backed out of the school parking lot. She was all too aware of the sneers and mocking going on behind her back.
As soon as she was on the road, her worries melted away and she allowed herself to smile. The day was nice and overcast, and with a quick glance at the ocean, she determined the surf to be just perfect.
'Homework can wait,' she decided. 'I wanna surf.'
She pulled over into the parking lot of a secluded beach, and once she opened the door of her car, the smell of the sea salt hit her nose. Her grin intensified, and she stripped, pulled out her wetsuit, and tugged it on.
With experienced ease, Anya pulled out her surfboard, hidden in the sand, and brought it to the water's edge. The water was deliciously cold against her unprotected feet, and she shivered in anticipation.
Running as much as the water would allow her, she hopped onto her board and paddled out to sea.
There were no other surfers at this time; it was right in the middle of December, when the sharks would come to breed. All the other people feared them, but Anya loved them. She had encountered her first shark when she was just learning how to surf at five years old. Despite being small for her age, she was fairly fearless. Anya had paddled out to the depth her father had told her to go, and out of the corner of her eye, saw the dark form in the water next to her. Not knowing of how dangerous sharks were, she had squealed with happiness, and reached out her hand to pet it.
It raised its head out of the water and bumped her hand affectionately. Her father yelled at her from the shore to pull her hand back, but she still remained fearless.
Out of nowhere, another shark came up and bumped her board gently, but with enough force to knock her into the water. When Anya resurfaced, the shark had come up below her and slid its body underneath her, positioning itself so that it could let her ride on his back. She had sat high on her perch, delighted that she had made a friend out of such a beautiful animal.
That had been the last day of her happiness. The next morning, Anya's father, Marcus, was struck by a car when he was walking across from their apartment to the little grocery store they owed. He had died instantly, just as she watched, unable to move, scream, or do anything.
Anya and her mother, Crystal had run the grocery shop, the Albacore Market, for about 13 more years until Crystal had died from a sudden bout of tuberculosis. Anya had been 18, so the grocery store was passed onto her. She had been running it for about six months now, and was reasonably well-off.
But that didn't matter now. She was surfing; all could wait.
Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw a shark's form, and she smiled. Ever since the death of her mother, sharks had been attracted to her and would nuzzle her hand from the water in a comforting fashion. She didn't mind though; they were the one constant thing in her life.
Reaching out her hand, she stroked the shark's hide. Right now, she decided, she was at peace.
Here, she was free.
By the time she finished surfing, Anya had to go immediately to work at the grocery store and work until 10 that night. In between customers, she got her homework done, and was relatively stress-free. The customer flow was good, so that meant she could pay her bills and the delivery men with no problem.
An older woman approached the cash register where Anya was currently stationed. "Anya, dear, you look so beautiful today!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Lipinski."
Grace Lipinski beamed, and then her gaze turned serious. "Anya, you will not believe it. You know that new grocery store just down the street?"
Of course she knew about it. That major-company grocery store was one of the biggest threats to her business. "Yes?" Anya replied, making it into a question.
"I shopped there a few days ago," Anya tensed, "and I regretted every moment of it. Everything was so overpriced, and they didn't even have some of my usual purchases." Grace shook her head of fading blonde straight hair and fixed a hazel gaze at Anya. "The rest of the community agrees with me, and no one is going to shop there anymore. Your store is far better."
She relaxed and allowed herself a small smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Lipinski. You don't know how much this means to me." Swiftly, she bagged the groceries, and handed them back to Grace, and the older woman walked out, along with the rest of the customers. It was a very good thing that the adults didn't believe the rumors about her; if they did, she didn't know what she'd do to support herself.
Anya let out a small sigh and was about to close up the store when out of the corner of her eye saw an unfamiliar form come through the door. She turned her full attention to it and frowned. It was a young man, probably a few years older than her. His golden-yellow hair stuck straight up, and blue eyes like the clear August sky were lit with anxiousness. His skin was pale, just like hers, and his height towered a good 3 inches above her own.
She was then struck with a brilliant, if not mischievous, plan. She walked into another aisle, then called out in Danish, "Er der noget du har brug for? *Is there something you need?*" She was hoping to mess with the stranger a little bit, and make him think she didn't speak English.
However, much to her surprise, the stranger replied, "Hvor skal du holde din kaffe? *Where do you keep your coffee?*"
Secretly, Anya was delighted. She had not been able to practice her Danish with another person since her mother died; speaking her first language with another was thrilling. "Én sok, vill jeg vise dil dig. *One sec, I'll show you."
She walked over to the aisle where the stranger was, where he was studying the shelves. However, when he turned to look at her, his eyes widened like he recognized her. His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out to her, but he held it still.
Anya ignored the strange behavior and said, "Er der en bestemt kaffe du leder efter? *Is there a specific coffee you're looking for?*"
The man cleared his throat uncertainly. "Tja, fakstik, du kunne få din bedste kaffe? *Well, actually, could you get your best coffee?*"
"It's no problem," Anya replied, final switching back to English. She started to walk back to the coffee section, the stranger following. "If you don't mind my asking, what is this for?"
"Well…I spilled my good friend Lukas Bondevik's cup of coffee this morning. He's a little obsessive over it, so he got really mad and tried to strangle me."
Though she should've been appalled, Anya chuckled. Her father had been the same with his morning coffee, except he would only snap at anyone outside his family. That was one of the few memories she had left of her father; she was even starting to forget what he looked like. "And this is a peace offering. Nice. Ah, here we are."
She stood on tiptoe and grabbed the Turkish coffee from the top shelf. "I'll ring it up for you, and if you want, I'll put a ribbon on it."
"Please?"
Chuckling, she took it to the cash register and rung it up. While she was tying the red, white, and blue ribbon on it, the stranger offered his hand. "I'm Matthias Køhler. It's a pleasure."
"Anya Marchese," she replied, slipping her own hand into his larger one. However, instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the knuckles. The gesture sent a pleasing tingle through her system, and she turned pink. "U-Uh…"
He winked at her. "That's the reaction I was looking for," he said appreciatively. Matthias released her hand and glanced at her hair. "Do you dye it that color? It's really pretty."
She shook her head, clearing her face of the blush. "No. I was born that way, just like my mother." Anya laughed mirthlessly. "It gets me stared at a lot at school, though. It's not fun."
"School?" he asked. "How old are you?"
"I'm 18," she replied shortly.
Matthias's eyes resembled dinner plates. "What?! You look at least 21!"
Anya sighed. "Great. Owning my own business is aging me." She put her head in her hands. "Put me out of my misery, God."
As she looked up again, Matthias had gone rigid with shock and his mouth opened and closed, making a surprisingly good imitation of a fish. "How-? You're 18 and you own-?"
At this point, she was extremely glad that there were no other customers to witness this. She was embarrassed enough. "The grocery store was originally in my father's ownership, but he died when he was hit by a car when I was 5. Then my mother and I ran it until my mother caught tuberculosis and died. I've been on my own for about six months now. All the other employees are here until I get out of school and get here, then they clear out."
Matthias looked sympathetic. "Man. That sounds tough. When was the last time you had a day off?"
"Not in the last six months."
A thoughtful look crossed his face. "How do you manage it all? Homework and bills and all that?"
"Starvation and many sleepless nights." To prove her statement, she stifled a yawn, but could do nothing to stop the growl from her stomach. "Now what about you? What do you do?"
He grinned. "Well, I'm an ambassador for Denmark. My friends and I were staying here on a vacation. The American ambassador suggested this as a quiet, out of the way place for a vacation, so…here we are now."
Anya smiled warmly, a rare sight to see. "Well, then. I hope you enjoy your stay."
"I will, Anya," Matthias said. With a wink and a salute, he waltzed out of her store.
Another blush appeared on her face. No one had ever winked at her or showed an interest in her. The feeling it gave her was unfamiliar…but not entirely unwelcome either.
So? Good, bad? What did you think? Leave a review to tell me! ;3