AN: Hello! I swore that I wouldn't update, but this is a Christmas present for my buddy Celestial Clusters on fanfic! She wanted some fluffy RusAme that involved Russia's scarf, so... This isn't quite fluff, but I hope it works for you, Stella! :D
DISCLAIMER: Although I may have gotten an America plushie for Christmas, Hetalia does not belong to me. Only the headcanon of Russia's scarf being St. Petersburg.
For as long as America had known Russia, the big nation had always worn that scarf. It looked old and worn out by now, but that was the one thing America couldn't imagine Russia without; it seemed to be a part of him. Russia had a word for it, America knew, but he didn't care in the slightest.
So when America woke up Christmas morning, the last thing he expected to see when he turned over to wake Russia up was Russia not there. Just the scarf.
That's odd, America thought, why would Russia leave his scarf here? Better find him and bring it back to him…
He picked up the old worn thing, and blinked. It was so warm, like it contained the embers of worlds and places past in it. America smiled and pressed the thing to his face for a second. It smelled like Russia did, but the scarf itself smelled like wintergreen, but it had a tinge of a smoky smell, and the definite smell of oil about it. The last scent seemed so out of place; the scarf was clean and well-kept, despite the age on it.
America stood up and walked down the staircase. "Mmm…Russia?" He called softly, looking around. They were in St. Petersburg for Christmas; America was trying to avoid the stupidity of his country (he loved everyone, but the way the elections were going, and pizza isn't a vegetable-), and Russia didn't want to be in Moscow, due to the protesting of what had gone down in his election for Prime Minister.
Russia popped his head out from the kitchen. "Ah. Good morning, America," He greeted and smiled a bit, "Tired?"
America walked into the kitchen with a worn out yawn. He leaned on Russia's shoulders as he smelled the tinge of food everywhere. "Yeah, I am. And you left your scarf in bed."
"Ah. I did?" Russia asked softly and looked down at America. There wasn't that much of a height difference between them, but the way America was slouching down as he leaned on Russia, it certainly gave the illusion of it.
"Yeah." America murmured and straightened up, wrapping the scarf around Russia happily. "Here you go. I can't believe you'd leave something so important on the bed like that… Didn't your sister give it to you?"
"Yes, she did," Russia murmured and smiled a bit as he buried his face in the scarf for a moment. "My big sister Ukraine gave this to me…It's come to represent the city of St. Petersburg, over time."
"How?" America blinked and carried breakfast over for Russia, "I mean, why just a city? I can understand one of your states-provinces-whatever-you-call-them getting a part on your body, but why only a city?"
As America began to clean his glasses off, Russia laughed softly. "St. Petersburg has always been an important part of my culture… It's been constantly changing, from the beginning of its creation." His eyes darkened, but it was clearly in thought as he began to eat breakfast in otherwise silence.
America was silent for a long, long moment, despite the long slurping and crunching sounds; he could never be quiet when it involved food.
"Hey, Russia," America slurped, "I don't get it." He was interrupted by a loud crunch, before America continued, "I thought the city was named Leningrad. No offense to you, or anything!" America added that last part quickly, not wanting to make Russia mad at him.
Russia could only chuckle, as if somehow used to the question. "Actually, St. Petersburg has been renamed quite a few times in the twentieth century…There was a joke about it."
"A joke? Can I hear? I like jokes!" America said innocently as he watched Russia.
Russia sighed a bit and nodded, standing up; they were both finished. "The first question is 'Where were you born?'. The answer is 'St. Petersburg'. The next question is 'Where did you go to school?' The answer is 'Petrograd'. The third question is 'Where do you live?' The answer is 'Leningrad'. And the last question is 'Where would you like to die?' And the answer is 'St. Petersburg'."
"…I don't get it." America frowned a bit, "It doesn't sound very funny, to be honest."
Russia sighed as he began to wash dishes. "I suppose you want an explanation, am I right?"
America was silent, but nodded as he helped Russia clean off the dishes.
Russia was silent, for a long moment as well, before he began the story.
"St. Petersburg was originally named after the tsar Pyotr the first. Peter the Great, as you would know him. It was an important city to my people, culturally, but during the first World War, the city's name was changed to Petrograd. St. Petersburg was too German of a name, people said, and we were Russian. We were Russia, and so the city had to have its named changed." Russia sighed here, sounding more than a tinge of melancholy, "From my Revolution… Things changed. And when Lenin died, Petrograd's name changed, in 1924. It became the city of Leningrad, as you came to know it. And eventually, Leningrad was changed back to St. Petersburg. It became a running joke amongst my children."
America was silent during Russia's story. That was so sad to the young nation; he wouldn't-couldn't-imagine an important city to him, like Boston, having its name changed so many times, especially in less than fifty years. That'd be…horrible. Unimaginable.
"So that brings me to my question," The younger nation murmured behind his glasses, "Why is your scarf St. Petersburg? Or whichever name you like it by—"
"St. Petersburg is fine, America," Russia murmured and fluffed the nation's hair, pushing down on his head a bit accidentally, "And I've told you. St. Petersburg has been, and always will be, an important part of Russia."
AN: Merry Christmas, Stella! I hope you liked this! and anyone else, drop by a review, please ;~;