Surviving Winter INTRO

Second Hetalia fic, this one will probably be a little bit more 'seriously written' than my last one. Human AU, so expect some 'dark traumatic past' for a few characters, because some people don't get the way Hetalia peoples act without SOMETHING going wrong. I suck at writing dark tho so we'll see how it goes. This is almost an experimental piece for me, since I'm expecting it to be far longer than most other things I've written, and my OC is...well, an OC. The same 'character' from my other one but a little bit more...structured, or that's the hope. I meant to add in others (Deter, Sacramento, Pitt, etc.) but with Hetalia already having a cast of loads and loads of characters I'll manage what I can manage. Thanks for reading and wish me luck! I want to do well by this...

The town is a made up town that I imagined would be in the lower-mid region of farmland in New York, just a couple of hours away from the big cities.

Expect these pairings to pop up: USUK, Franada (I love how that sounds for some reason), GerIta, Spamano, possible Austria and Hungary.

Surviving Winter

Chapter One

Nation, New York

It had always been a plain life, she surmised.

The road was stretched too far in front of her and the weariness of the drive was felt more in her stomach than anywhere else. Radio music helped, but the anxiety of arriving at her destination after several hours of solid driving had her tapping the steering wheel incessantly.

The State line was quite a ways behind her at this point, and she sighed deeply, trying to relieve some shakiness. It was a big move, going from Ohio to New York. Hopefully business would be better up here though. She glanced at the GPS sitting under her rear view mirror. Just a few more turns. The winding country road was a little more than less traveled, she decided. Good. At least she would have some peace and quiet out here. She finally pulled her packed truck up into the long dirt driveway. The large farmhouse in front of her was too big for one person. Far too big, actually. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. It would be a pain to keep a house that size clean on top of farm work. Maybe hiring a house cleaner would be in order sometime. Leaning forward on the dash, she grabbed one of the several maps of the new home state and glowered at it. She was only a couple of hours from the big city. She wondered if it would be a good idea to visit sometime after getting settled.

Moving by yourself is difficult. There is so much stuff to put away and organize...well, at least she could put everything just how she liked it without anyone else bugging her. While unpacking her dishes she sneezed. Geez, it was dusty. Furrowing her brow, she pulled a mini calender from her back pocket and checked the dates and schedules. There was a small town about ten minutes away. Maybe she could hire some helping hands. She yawned. Unpacking boxes already made her back and shoulders sore. Feeling oddly defeated and renewed at the same time, she walked upstairs to the master bedroom, where an old bed that would probably need replaced soon creaked under her weight. The mattress was new, at least.

Without even bothering with pillows or sheets, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The morning sun was so bright. That much hadn't changed, at least. The dusty, drawn curtains betrayed her as she blinked her eyes slowly, adjusting to the unwelcome intrusion.

"I was having a good dream too..." She murmured, yawning loudly, though no one else would hear. Tiredly she stood, leaning against the old-style dresser and pulling a drawer open to pick out a freshly unpacked outfit. Raising her head brought her face to face with her reflection in a dusty full body mirror, and she gaped at herself. "God I look horrible." She frowned, pulling at her long, unruly dark brown hair in annoyance. The skin around her eyes seemed to sag a little and her clothes were a rumpled mess.

Glad to to have the foresight to pay a little in advance, getting a hot shower and fresh change of clothes really helped brighten her outlook. She wanted help for today though.

She shivered. The heat hadn't been turned on yet and it was late fall. And she was more north than she was used to.
After pulling on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of work overalls, she pulled on her boots and jacket, heading outside to lock the door, unhitch the trailer and make sure she had everything in the house and out of the truck.

She used the GPS to find the town. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use it too much more. Rather sick of driving, she felt like slouching rather tiredly until she saw the small collection of buildings ahead of her. Feeling interest prickling at her, she sat up to get a closer look. It was a cute little place, the kind of town you would stop at during long road trips for a bite to eat or ice cream, or just a nice little walk. People milled about on the sidewalks and crossed the street casually, and the amount of greetings exchanged between residence...it was the type of place where many people knew each other. Deciding walking would be better, she parked her large truck in the parking lot of a little cafe. It was mid morning, but there seemed to be quite a few cars here. Paying no mind to the people passing her, she walked inside to the chime of a bell.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle!" A cheerful, accented voice greeted from the counter. The words caught her off guard, but she was pretty sure he was just saying hello. It was French, right?

"Um. Hello." She managed to say, looking up at the blonde male who had not really stopped moving. He was putting food into display cases and messing with papers and other various tasks she couldn't see. His work uniform looked a little too spiffy for any simple cafe, and his apron was powdered with a variety of foodstuffs.

"Oh gracieuse, what a lovely little flower I see before me this morning! I must say, mademoiselle, I have not seen you around before. That's a rare sight." He flashed a friendly smile, leaning over the counter to greet her better. His hair waved gracefully about his face. "Tell me your name, pretty flower! I would love to allow such sweet words to grace my ears."

It took her a second to ground her thoughts around the floaty man. "Oh. My name is Columbia. Is it really that rare to see a new face around here?" She wondered just how small the little town was. It wasn't something she wasn't used to, her old home was full of small towns like this one. It was almost a nostalgic feeling, being talked to as such. Some people would find it akin to needless flirting.

"In here, oui. My little shop is almost always busy. Speaking of, what can I get for you?"

She noted he didn't even bother with a pen and paper. "I'm not sure. I'm new around here, so what do you recommend?" Was he the owner then?

"Well, mademoiselle Columbia, have you eaten yet?" Such a relaxed expression on a man.

Actually, not since yesterday afternoon, she realized. Her mouth was suddenly watering at the idea of a fresh, hot meal. "No. Something...energizing would be good."

"Hm? How about I make an omelet?" He stuck a menu in her hand, and waved towards the dining area. "Tell me what you like and take a seat anywhere. I'll have one of my waiters bring it out to you in a flash."

She scanned the menu quickly, thinking it a little odd that the owner would bother being so personal, but at the same time finding it refreshing. "Tomatoes, ham, spinach...um. Cheese. That's all." She placed it back on the couner, watching the blonde take a bow and disappear behind double doors. Huh.

Taking a better look around, the dining area was larger than she initially thought. It wrapped around into long corridors that were full of tables. She also noted that there were enough people in here to match the half full parking lot outside. Some people had actually noticed her, walking to a lone table by a window. She looked out to the streets of the town, noticing a small market across the street and woodworking shop.

Maybe that would be a good place to look for a new bed?

"Your omelet, miss!"

Columbia snapped her head to see the waiter place a piping hot plate in front of her.

"And orange juice!" He added, placing the full glass on the table and dropping a straw with it.

"But how - " She frowned, looking up at the waiter. Dirty blonde hair, plain waiters uniform, blue eyes hidden behind a set of half frame glasses.

"He said orange juice would go best. That's all. Can I get you anything else?" He grinned down at her. Did anyone that worked here ever stop smiling? There's customer service and then there's...well, this.

"No, thank you very much."

"Enjoy your meal!" He turned and attended to the table behind him.

"Hm. I like this town." She decided, unwrapping her silverware and taking a bit out of the plain omelet. "Holy - " She almost dropped her fork. This had to be the best egg she had ever tasted! Actively forcing herself to slow down and enjoy it, she decided it was easily the best meal she had ever had. By the time she was done the waiter had returned with her check.

"So how was it, newcomer?" He asked cheerfully. He seemed to be a very upbeat person.

"Delicious! I didn't know eggs could be so fluffy..." She almost felt like laughing, but decided against it. "The owner. He is also the cook?"

"Oh, yeah. That's Francis. He loves his job!" More grinning from the young male.

"I can tell. He's foreign, isn't he?" Her gaze unwittingly wandered to the kitchen.

"Um, yeah. He's from France...this town's a little odd in that way. We seem to have a mix basket of all kinds of nationalty around here. It could be because we're so close to the City." He surmised, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Well that's...interesting." Columbia was honestly unsure how to feel about that fact. Even if it was New York, it seemed a little weird. Stranger has happened before though, hasn't it? She paid her bill, leaving extra for the nice young waiter, and thanked him for the service. "Oh. I may come back. Can I get your name?"

He checked the amount paid, hardly bothering to be subtle about it, his face grinning the whole time. "Sure! Its Alfred."

"Thank you again, Alfred. And thank...um, Francis, for the meal."

"Hey, no problem! Come again!" He waved as she walked out.

Columbia stuffed her hands in her jacket, protecting the exposed skin of her hands from the chilly wind that rustled the air. Geez it was cold! It was too early in the year for this kind of coolness. She almost wished she had a scarf or something. Oh well. Crossing the street was easy, even without a proper crosswalk or streetlight. She was reminded of how much she loved smaller towns.

The small market had wooden crates put out with fresh produce. She walked over to inspect it. It was good quality food, that was for sure. Sitting in one of the boxes were some of the biggest, plumpest tomatoes she had ever seen. They looked delicious. She vaguely wondered if the cafe across the street bought his produce from this store. Knowing small town economics, it wouldn't surprise her. She peeked inside. A tanned man was sorting stuff with another young male. They seemed to be busy.

She instead turned her attention to the wood shop, which was full of furniture. The entrance made a chiming sound.

"Ni hao!" The voice was high pitched, and all she could see for a greeting was a brightly colored sleeve raising over top of stacked chairs.

"Er." She paused. What? "Hello?"

"Ni hao!" The voice chimed again, this time a bright eyed face came into view, peering from the side of the chairs. "Welcome!" He hopped excitedly towards her. "Can I interest you in some furniture today, aru?"

His accent was throwing her off. It was like he was having trouble not slurring the letters together, so he emphasized every word he said. His shirt sleeves were too long and his dark hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail. "Y-yeah, actually..." She looked around. There were tables, chairs, desks, shelving units...they were all beautiful. "You make all of these yourself?"

"Yes! I am wonderful at making things like this! I enjoy it very much, so I open the shop and sell on my own. Mostly I do custom order, though. Shop ware usually only hobby pieces, aru. They sell well for passerby, though."

She had to blink and listen hard to understand him completely. Not because he wasn't clear, but because he spoke a little on the fast side. "I see. Well, I'm...new, and I am thinking I need a new bed for my farmhouse - "

"Bed?" His smile fell, and he placed his too long sleeve against his cheek. "I don't think I have any beds made at moment, aru..." He seemed seriously disheartened.

"But you do custom orders?"

"Yes, I do, aru."

What did 'aru' mean? "Well, I might be interested in having one made, if your schedule is open."

"Hmmm..." He placed what she could only assume were his hands on his hips, though it was hard to tell with how his sleeves flopped around on him. "I think I can make time, aru. We can discuss arrangements. There are many type of wood and finish to choose from, and size, and cost..."

"Let's start with your rates." Columbia interrupted, starting to feel a little overwhelmed. He was eager, if nothing else. He showed her a picture book of what he had made previously, and she had to admit she was impressed. He obviously spent alot of time making things. It wasn't starting to look like this wasn't going to be cheap. It would last though, so maybe...

"Queen?" He paused as she asked the question, rubbing his cheek again. "I think it will be manageable, aru. What about detail?"

"Surprise me. Your work here is impressive. I like simple things though." She emphasized the simple. "Nothing too extravagant or fancy. Think more...classy."

"Oh, I see. Not a problem! Take awhile to make though, aru. How long can you wait?"

"I'll wait." Time didn't matter. She wanted a good bed. "So. What am I looking at for cost?"

"Hm. Material and work. But simple design...I say $4500 would be approximate cost, aru." He smiled.

Columbia frowned. It wasn't out of what she was expecting, but at the same time... "'Approximate?'" She repeated.

"If it take longer I will call and we can renegotiate. But most likely will not happen, aru. $4700, maximum." He reassured her.

She thought about it just for a moment before extending her hand. "Agreed."

He pulled his hand through his long sleeve to accept, shaking roughly. "Good, aru! I will get started soon."

"Yes, thank you mister..."

"Wang. Yao Wang. We have paper to sign, contract of agreement for payment and work." He explained seriously, moving to get behind his front counter.

"Oh. Sure." The words felt dumb in her mouth. It was a little bit of an adjustment getting through the day, a Frenchman cooking her breakfast at a small cafe and now a Chinese man who does excellent woodworking. And she was pretty sure the darker skinned man next door was Spanish, he kind of looked like it. Some paper and a pen were shoved onto the hard marble surface of the store counter and she read over the words, filling in the commission amount agreed upon and signing at the bottom. Mr. Wang slipped his hand out of his sleeve again to also sign the bottom.

"Be right back." He disappeared to the back for a moment, leaving her to admire the little hand-carved wooden figures on the counter before he bounced back in. "Your copy, aru." He stated, handing her a sheet. She looked over it before nodded.

"Thank you so much." She smiled up at him, realizing she was feeling a bit more relaxed all of a sudden.

"No no, thank you, aru. Will be lot of fun to make!" He smiled.

"I'll keep in touch then?" She asked, turning to leave.

"Will call with updates. Good-bye, aru!" He waved his arm, his sleeve flopping about lazily.

"Bye." She waved back, exiting the store with a chime. Walking out of the warm store reminded her how cold it was outside, and she shivered. Something had changed on the edge of the street though. A young man had appeared, sitting almost in between the market store and the wood shop, propping up paintings all around him. His bright blue jacket and pants looked worn down, and he seemed...tired, somehow. And maybe a little dirty. His hair was auburn, almost seeming to have more orange in it, and a single, prominent curl arched upwards from his head. How strange. The young man had stopped moving upon seeing her, his amber eyes almost looking like liquid.

"Ah, ciao. I've never seen you before. Veee~" His voice was soft, and almost sounded weak.

"Hi. I'm...new." She didn't expect to be addressed by a stranger in the street.

"Oh? Really? That's wonderful! I like meeting new people!" His face brightened considerably, and his attention somewhat returned to arranging the paintings. "So are you just visiting? On your way to the City?"

"Hm? Oh. No, I bought a farmhouse a little ways out. I'm a farmer." That sounded stupidly repetitive. A farmer buying a farmhouse. How original.

"I see. The season is over for now, though, isn't it? Vee... So what are you going to do in the meantime?" He had stopped propping up pictures and she noticed that a blank canvas sat next to him. He turned around, rested his back against the wall and started unpacking paints from a bag.

"Fix up...my house..." She started slowly, taking a serious look at the paintings. "Did you do these?"

He paused. "Yes."

There were paintings of buildings, animals, and flowers. Scenery and things, a couple of people. They held a level of vividness to them, and contained something she couldn't quite pin a word for. "Gosh, they're wonderful."

"Grazie."

"You must sell a lot of them."

At this, there wasn't an answer, and he had already taken a slender coal-colored stick to the canvas, sketching like there was nothing else to do in the world. He wore fingerless gloves and had pulled a thick hat on.

"Isn't it cold to do that out here?" She asked, watching his fingers. It wasn't hard to piece together that he was poor.

"Si. But I need to do something." For being so friendly, he was good at keeping a quiet voice and acting pathetic, somehow.

"I get it." She said. Talking to him any longer would only make her feel more empty. "I have an errand I need to run. Good luck with that."

"Grazie." He repeated. Disappointment tinted his voice, but only slightly.

Well dammit. Why did it make her feel like she just kicked a puppy while it's down? She walked down the street hurriedly, seeing more restaurants and small stores. There was a small theater too. What caught her eye next was a little bakery next to a music store. Realizing she still needed to find some helping hands, she decided to duck into the bakery and see if anyone knew something.

The bakery was lightly colored, which she found surprising for a public place since dirt tended to stick to anything. But it looked brand new, it was so incredibly clean. Spotless, even, she was sure.

"Guten Morgen." How many accents was she going to run into today? The man that appeared was almost enormous. He was muscular, slicked back blonde hair and sharp but bright blue eyes.

"Good morning." She replied, taken aback. "So is this place new?" Her eyes were still absorbing the atmosphere.

"Nein. Ve hafe had zis place for more zen ten years." He was hard to understand. She picked up that he must be German though.

"Is the interior new...?" There was no way it was still this clean after this much time.

"Nein." He began to look annoyed. "Is zere somethink I can help you wis?"

Her eyes scanned the delicious looking cakes and treats in the display case, but she was still full from the best omelet in the world from earlier. "Sorry, I'm new around here. I just wanted to know if there was a place I could maybe find some farmhands."

The large man blinked in confusion. "Ze end of ze season..."

"Yeah, but I just moved into this large house a little ways out...I need some help cleaning the place up and moving stuff around. I'm not weak, but no matter how I look at it moving a couch on my own would be impossible." She tried to keep her face placid during the conversation. Alfred wasn't kidding when he said there were many different people around here. Facing the large German man was much more intimidating than the others she had already met, and her gut told her she did not want to be on his bad side.

"I see." He visibly relaxed, letting his elbows rest on the practially sparkling countertop. "Zen you might vant to try ze town hall. Is right on ze oser side of zis street." He pointed to his front door. "So go one street ofer from here, and ze town square is just a bit more down." He indicated the back of his shop with his thumb. So the same way she had been walking this whole time, just one street over. "Zere is a bulletin board. You can post vatefer you vant, as long as iz not publicly inappropriate."

She was glad he talked slowly. It made him easier to understand, and his accent was thick. She smiled a little at him. "Thank you! That's a great help to me."

"Iz no problem." He replied, holding up is hand. "Can I interest you in some pastries?"

She eyed the sweet-looking cakes again, thinking back on the tomatoes she saw outside of the market. All the shops here seemed excellent, she wondered how the town had stayed so small. "Not today. I'll be around quite a bit though, so I promise to stop in and have some cakes and coffee."

He nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Fery vell zen. Some oser time."

They waved silent good-byes, which Columbia found odd after all the exuberance and cheerfulness of the rest of the townsfolk she had met today. The town hall was easy enough to find, a nice lady at the desk (who sported nothing more than an Northern American accent) had instructed her to where the community bulletin was, offering to post it on the community website as well. Well that didn't seem like a bad idea. She filled out a short form, giving out her address and details of the jobs and chores she wanted done, sticking the paper to the corkboard with a thumbtack when she was finished. Satisfied with the day, and feeling the need to eat again, she decided to head back to her truck and that wonderful cafe. Then shop at the grocers for food and go home.
The walk was brisker now that she had accomplished what she needed, and she made sure to stay on the right side of the street walking back to avoid the street artist. She knew she shouldn't, but she didn't need to feel any more depressed than she already did. Moving away from her family was a decision that didn't come easily.

Francis was nowhere in sight now that noon had come around, and the little cafe had become packed. She barely received a seat, Alfred offering no more than a 'welcome back, newcomer!' before scribbling down her order and dashing to the next table. Did he have any help?

Looking around she once again realized the prominence of mixed races in the room. Not that it bothered her at all, but it was a rare sight to see so many different people in the same place. She counted at least six different distinct languages around her as she waited for her lunch to appear. Alfred placed the chicken salad on her table with a wide smile and 'enjoy!' before running off again. She watched in amusement as he hopped from table to table, nearly tripping once or twice. Another blonde head was bobbing around as much as his, and it wasn't Francis. Well, at least Alfred wasn't working the whole place by himself. She finished her meal, which was just as delicious as the breakfast, and paid her bill, leaving a little bit more for the waiter this time around.

Feeling even more pleased after eating the wonderful food, she felt a little bounce in her step as she carefully crossed the street to the grocers shop. The young man wasn't sitting on the sidewalk she noticed, but his paintings were still there. She frowned. What kind of street artist leaves his product lying about? Inspecting the abandoned canvas's, she saw the paints had been knocked over, and the partially drawn on canvas was all messed up, like someone had taken a big paint-covered maker and purposely defaced the work in progress. This confused her more, and she checked the line of finished product to see if the same fate had befallen the pieces of art. They seemed fine, until she turned one over. On the back of the wooden canvas was a sloppily written 'FAG' in paint.

Well that's just rude.

She checked the others. Only one other had paint on the back of it, and it was just a little. Like someone had interrupted the defacing as paint dripped on the edge.

"Cagna, che cosa stai facendo?!" A harsh voice shouted. She turned, a dark-haired but rather pale skinned young man was glowering at her ferociously. Oddly enough, he also had a weird, single curl that seemed to have a life of it's own, bouncing oddly high off the top of his head.

"Someone painted on the back of this." She said flatly. "I was wondering why they were left out here on their own." She had no idea what he said, but hopefully he understand her.

"None-a of your-a business! Chigi!" The male shouted in English, snapping up the paintings.

Something inside of her twisted a bit, and she sighed. "Let me help." She asked.

The man glared at her sharply for a moment, filling his arms with the canvas's best he could before turning back towards the grocers. "Just-a bring them in-a here." His tone was dark.

She grabbed the few that were left, ignoring the spilled paint and entering the grocers shop with a ding of a bell. The young man was nowhere in sight, but there were some distant voices...somewhere. They were talking somewhere, but it was echoed, so she couldn't pinpoint it. Heavy footsteps alerted her to a person approaching, and the tanned man she saw earlier in the day descended a stairwell that was hiding behind the side wall of the store.

"Gracias, senora." Ah, so he was Spanish. "That's very nice of you to help with my friends...product." He reached out to take the paintings, which she handed over with little grace.

"Not a problem. Why were they left out?" She didn't mean to sound insensitive, but her natural curiosity was piqued.

"Ah...there was an incident." He replied uncomfortably. Columbia fidgeted away her curiousness. It wasn't polite to pry.

"I see. Sorry. Are you still open for business?"

"Si, si! Apologies, please, shop to your hearts content. I'll just be out a moment more!" He smiled politely, retreating back to the hidden staircase.

"Definitely the strangest town I've ever been to." Columbia murmured, scanning the store. It was too much of a pain to cook meals for one, so frozen vegetables and chicken breasts and the like would do. She tried to only get a few bags worth, since her truck was across the street. The tanned man seemed a little jumpy as he checked her out.

"Oh, and I'd like to buy a tomato or two from your outside baskets as well."

He nodded in acknowledgement, pressing some buttons on the register in front of him. "$43.55. Take whatever tomato you like." He spoke hurriedly and plainly, and she vaguely wondered if he was normally more relaxed.

She paid, thanking him for his time and left briskly. As soon as she left the door, she glanced back to see him sprinting back upstairs. The dark haired younger male never appeared again. She picked a modest tomato from the outside and glanced one last time at the spilt paint before looking both ways to cross the street.

Translations via Google Translate

Cagna, che cosa stai facendo - Bitch, what are you doing?! - Italian