Please Don't Mind the Unicorns

Chapter One: The Russia Game Commences

Russia was not mean. Or insane. Or demented. Yes, he did have his moments, but they were just that—moments. They said nothing about his true personality.

Nothing at all.

That time he almost split England's head open with a pickaxe—he was only trying to help! How was HE supposed to know that it would cause his friendinstantaneous death?

He pondered this as he waited very patiently for the other nations to arrive. The absurdly large table that occupied the majority of the room remained empty, save for Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, who cowered together like frightened mice, seated as far away from the ex-Communist as they possibly could. Russia smiled.

"I hope nothing…unfortunate has happened to our friends, da? What do you think, Latvia?"

"I think they decided that you're a creep and stayed home," Latvia said bluntly.

Russia continued smiling as the temperature in the room plummeted dangerously.

"I said I think that they said the weather was neat and ate snow," Latvia amended hastily. Russia must have found this answer to be acceptable, because the concentration of doom in the atmosphere lessened considerably. Russia knit his eyebrows.

"That would make sense…though I had never imagined Germany to be the snow-eating type. Italy and America perhaps, but Germany? Ah well, I suppose there is a first time for everything, but still, I worry. How can they become one with mother Russia if they are not here? Lithuania, why don't you call that Poland and ask him why I am alone, you are on good terms with him, da?"

"W-well—,"

"Splendid!"

"B-but-," Lithuania started.

Russia smiled innocently. Understandably, Lithuania paled and took a step back.

"Okay." The nation squeaked. In the far corner of the room, Latvia nudged Estonia.

"He's handling this very well," Latvia observed.

"I think I would give him a five-and-a-half for finesse and a six-point-two for composure," Estonia murmured in reply. "That gives Lithuania a total of twenty-eight-point-four points for this week, which means he is now beating you by nine."

Latvia growled and unconsciously made a fist. He knew he should have been happy that for once, his friend was not being sent off to Siberia but today, just for today, he wished that Lithuania would mess up.

He DID like winning, after all.

Russia watched as Lithuania walked over to the old-fashioned telephone that hung on the wall nearest to the two other Baltic countries. His hand trembled as he dialed and the others waited anxiously; Russia alone seemed unaffected by the thick cloud of tension that hung over them. The phone rang once, twice, three times. The fourth ring was interrupted by a clacking sound on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Poland! It is your good friend Lithuania! Russia is here and is wondering where everybody is. Latvia thinks you're eating snow. Remember, Russia is here and is anxiously awaiting your answer! Do not forget that Russia is here," he said. He crossed his fingers and hoped that his oblivious friend would notice his subtle hints.

Please, Poland, oh please say you are eating snow, please say you are eating snow… thought Lithuania desperately.

"I'm not-," Poland began. Small scuffling noises drifted through the earpiece.

"No! You cannot say anything I do not tell you to say! Just hand the phone to me!" someone yelled in a thick German accent.

Poland hmmed thoughtfully, as if he were, for once, actually considering compliance. He went silent, and Lithuania could practically see the smirk on his friend's face.

"No."

"Why you little-," (at this point, the other phone was dropped on the floor, effectively cutting off the insult and leaving the rest to the listeners' imaginations. The small scuffling noises resumed)

Some time passed before Poland picked the device up again.

"Yes, yes, we are all like, together, totally eating snow right now," he confirmed.

Estonia raised an eyebrow at Latvia, who shrugged.

"We are all eating this snow because..." Poland trailed off uncertainly. Even though he was aware that Poland couldn't see him, Lithuania nodded encouragingly into the receiver. "Because it will like, be a totally useful skill when we all like-," he broke off again and clapped a hand over the mouthpiece. There was a pause. "It will be useful when we become, like, one with Russia, you know?"

Russia seemed very pleased with this statement, and that somehow made him even more disturbing than normal. Lithuania silently placed the phone back down as fighting broke out on Poland's end and rubbed his hands together nervously.

The other Baltics shivered and shrank back. Russia chortled and clapped gleefully.

"This is great news! We shall prepare a feast to celebrate, da? I would like the table set, the missiles polished, and a new set of tutus sewn before my new territories arrive," he said. A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "And see if you can acquire some of England's scones; I've heard they are particularly potent around this time of year."

With that, he swept out of the room, his scarf trailing dramatically, leaving the faint sound of kolkolkol-ing hanging in the wake of his departure.

The three men stood next to each other awkwardly. The remnants of Russia's Infamous Menacing Aura of Doom constricted any forms of relief that may have otherwise manifested in Russia's absence.

"Well…on the bright side, it could be worse." Estonia said, trying to be optimistic. He glanced at Lithuania with mild concern. The dark-haired nation never reacted well when Russia threatened to expand his vast influence into Poland.

"Meep…" Lithuania squeaked in reply. He seemed to be in some form of shock.

"When he's done with Europe, do you think he would take Alaska first, or the rest of Asia?" Latvia asked Estonia curiously, completely oblivious to poor Lithuania. Estonia nudged his spectacles further onto the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"That is hard to say. I have not studied his relations with other Asian powers or America as much as I should have; I have always focused more on things that directly affect us," the taller nation answered sheepishly.

"Meep…"

"Regardless, Poland and the rest of the world had better find a really good place to hide. Somehow, I doubt that Russia will stop once he hits the Atlantic," said Latvia.

"I am afraid I have to agree with you there. Just try your best not to anger him while he is in Conquest Mode this time." Estonia advised. Latvia shivered at the last bit.

"Meep…" Lithuania whimpered. His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated.

"Should I prepare a room for Poland now, or wait until after the feast?" Estonia asked casually.

Lithuania, upon hearing this, broke out of his stupor and quietly went to a corner to bawl his eyes out.

"POLAND, YOU MORON!"

"What? I only said what you told me to say!"

"You were supposed to say, 'in case we need to ally ourselves with Russia', not-not THAT! Now, thanks to you, I am going to wake up one morning and find him standing on my doorstep, you idiot!" Germany shouted. Several globules of spittle landed in Poland's hair.

"But he like, already does that, so it doesn't matter anyways," Poland pointed out.

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT!"

"Then what is the point?" Poland asked. Germany's eyebrow twitched.

"You know what? Just stop talking and eat the..." He gave the blackened lump in his hand a look that was a cross between concern and uncertainty. "…scone."

Poland was dubious. Nevertheless, he delicately took the object from Germany and warily held it at arm's length.

"Come on, come on. I haven't got all day, I still have to feed Italy," Germany said impatiently.

"Force-feed is more like. It took you like, a half an hour to convince him to even come into the same room as the things! Besides, I can totally see that you haven't even touched yours," the cross-dresser argued. He was right; it was fairly easy to tell who had eaten the scones and who had not, and Germany clearly fell into the latter category. In fact, given that everybody present was still standing, it was obvious that nobody was feeling suicidal urges that day.

"Well, I will, once I have made sure that everybody else has eaten theirs," Germany argued defensively. Poland raised an eyebrow. Germany decided to change the subject.

"If we are lucky, if we consume these we will all come down with severe bouts of agonizing food poisoning and miss the meeting in Russia. If we are unlucky, we all die," he explained slowly. He made it all sound very simple.

"But I thought we like, already were excused by saying we would join him," Poland said.

"That has never kept Russia away," Germany replied gravely, "As soon as his celebration preparations are finished, which will probably be tomorrow morning, he will arrive to collect us. Trust me, this is our best option," He suppressed a shudder. "Anyone who does not ingest the…substance…will soon find themselves to no longer be their own nation."

"I like, totally don't have anything to worry about then," Poland said nonchalantly. He smirked, almost as if he was privy to some secret. "I have this like, super-cool technique I use to ward him off."

"And what might that be?" Germany asked skeptically. He found it hard to believe that Poland of all people could discover something powerful enough to keep Russia at bay. Maybe he had hidden away a large cache of super-sized, turbo-charged nuclear weaponry, or had developed a new type of gun that could take out a tank with one shot, or maybe even gotten ahold of a magical can of bear spray. Germany brightened. If it was magical bear spray, maybe he could get Norway to make him some. Norway was nice. Nicer than England, anyways.

Poland glanced around to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping, then leaned forward to share his 'secret'.

"I call it…" he said in a low voice, "the Belarus."

Germany froze and almost dropped the plate of scones. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"W-what?"

"Yeah! Whenever I hear that Russia is like, coming over to visit, I just tell the Belarus. Then, like, POOF, it appears at my house. Russia comes, Russia sees the Belarus, Russia runs away. Easy." Poland said casually.

"B-but isn't that a bit…" Germany glanced around nervously, "…dangerous?"

"Only for Russia," Poland replied. Germany seemed doubtful, but as he was in no position to give warnings about taking risks, he kept his thoughts to himself. It was he, not Poland, who was (unsuccessfully) trying to convince others to swallow England's trademarked Scones of Death, after all.

Germany decided that he would leave his neighboring country be and moved on to his next victim.

A/N (this one's a whopper):

Before you ask:

I use headcanons, and I warp minor characters as needed.

This is MOST DEFINITELY a crossover. Just. Not. Yet. Be patient. I like taking my time to develop a story. Cutting to the chase and getting to the point is something I don't do. I like to let my stories ripen, and I want my crossover to have a somewhat believable origin.

I am sorry for any OOC-ness, but remember, this is a crack fic, so it probably IS going to be there. I will try to avoid it, but since this is a humor story, as we all know, humor precedes everything and if some character traits must be sacrificed for the good of the genre, so be it.

There will be no major OC's in this story. I don't even know if I will even USE OC's. If by some compulsion I decide to throw one in in future chapters, it will be of the BYSTANDER VARIETY, and will have no impact on the plotline.

I, unfortunately, do not take requests or advice relating to the aforementioned plotline. I am on a roll, and I know how it is going to turn out, I've got everything set in concrete in advance. I regret to say that I am quite possessive of my story, and if you really, really, REALLY want something, then go write one yourself.

Gosh, that came out wrong.

What I meant to say was: This story will not be changed to fit your personal needs, however, if you want it that badly, you can write a story of your own and, if you PM me, I will more than happily provide feedback and support. But this story is mine, and it WILL stay that way.

Constructive feedback is appreciated, flames are not, and complaints will be ignored (see above).

Hmm...I think that's about everything.

I do not own Hetalia, or MLPFiM, which will make its appearance later.

If this chapter seemed too short to you, please do tell. It actually is HALF of the original chapter one, so if enough people like long chapters, I can post the longer versions. A little bird told me some people are intimidated by really long chapters.

Until next time,

-Conn