Disclaimer: Hetalia and Avengers and its characters do not belong to me - unfortunately - they belong to their respective creators/owners.
Author Note: Wzgncjndsjkc! So, this chapter was rewritten about nine times (I'm literally not joking) because I'm crazy enough to want to write a chapter with two of the most hardest characters to write ever together in the same place. Enjoy and leave feedback!
The Russian man hummed a melody from his homeland quietly as he nearly bounced towards the lobby of the New York building. Today was the World Meeting, and he would get to see all of his friends and not-yet-friends again! As he pushed the doors open, he turned happily toward the elevators, just in time to see a bounce of red hair enter it.
Oh! He knew that red hair!
He made it to the elevator in record time (not so subtly pushing – throwing – a scrawny bespectacled man about to enter it out of the way) and entered with a smile. He pushed the button for the 55th floor, then gave a cheerful look at his companion. She stared back in suspicion and mistrust.
Ah, his little child, here with him again~!
He resumed his tune as he felt her eyes study him, taking in every detail, every strength, every weakness that she could gleam just by looking at him. She was so cute like that. Like a baby rattlesnake ready to strike when the time suited her (or, no, it would be a 'baby spider'). Russia felt happy to be given the attention.
The elevator took them up slowly. Russia did not mind this at all and looked forward to the quiet ride. Natalia did not seem to feel the same.
"You were in Moscow once." Her tone was unconcerned.
Russia nodded, knowing she was referring to a very specific time in her life and not just any time he himself had been in Moscow (which was constantly). "As were you," he chirped back.
"I wasn't the one surrounded by people in control of Russia."
"To be fair, they do not do the controlling of Russia very well."
A pause to compartmentalize that sentence for later analysis. "You know of me."
"Not too much," Russia assured happily. "Just a little."
She turned to look at him. "Who are you really." She had a sly curve of her eyes, but a little danger in that tone told him that she would make sure he answered her truthfully, the easy way or the Widow way.
"Ivan Braginsky," he offered, unfazed but not really looking to fight.
"I'm sure that name is real."
Oh, look at her! Sarcasm at its finest. She was so funny! He let out a huff of a laugh. "It is; look it up, if you must. Though, I know you will not believe, even then."
"If you don't want to tell me your real name, then, fine." She turned to stare at the doors, her body relaxed, though this was just a trap for those who thought her guard down. "But I know that 'Ivan Braginsky' is no simple Russian-born man with a desk job in the government who 'sometimes travels'," she recited.
"Ah! You know who I am being, after all!" Russia turned to her fully, hands now clapped together in happiness. "I should be expecting no less, really – I always heard little Natalia was the best!"
Though Natasha never moved, the tense silence was damning in and of itself after his statement.
Russia 'ah'ed, mood no less dampened, and commented airily to the wall next to him, "I am hoping I do not suffer a widow bite in the elevator. There are still so many floors to reach." The slow-moving technology had just passed the 28th floor.
Natasha turned to face him once again, body posed just so and ready to do damage. "Tell me now if I need to press that emergency stop button," she said with a quipping tone of voice, eyebrow raised.
Russia obliged her 'joke' and laughed more. He waved a hand at her in peace. "Please, no. I have no quarrel with arachnids at this moment."
She quirked a deceptively teasing smile. "What about with hawks?"
Russia ducked sheepishly into his scarf. "I do not wish to be on receiving end of the arrow, so, no thank you. But, if you wish to know something," he informed her, "you should do the asking now before my floor arrives."
"55?"
"It will be inaccessible to you, little widow. And, no, that was not a challenge to your abilities," he ended with another smile.
She cocked her head in thought, storing more and more information about him in her brain, no doubt, though he would never be able to tell what she was keeping about him in the filing system of her mind. "The Red Room."
"Ah," Russia mournfully shook his head. "You are knowing more than me; I may have funded and approved, but I did not create Red Room project...nor was I in charge, to be honest."
Natasha watched the floors ascend on the button panel. "Wasn't kept up-to-date?"
"Not so much back then. Only informed of results – not of methods."
"That doesn't excuse you."
"I know this, little widow. But," he turned his head up to stare at the ascending floors, too, "I am – how to say – 'making up for the mistakes'?"
Natasha stayed silent. Russia had a feeling she knew what that was like – after all, she had left her previous life to pursue redemption with 'SHIELD' last he heard.
"...You appear awfully young to have been there for the creation of the Room," she commented, breaking the quiet.
Russia giggled. "I am told moisturizer helps skin stay smooth and soft!"
"Must be some expensive lotion."
They fell silent for a couple more floors. Though, silence was companionable to Russia, and he bounced a bit in good nature. Natasha gave him an unusual look.
"Happy?"
"I am happy to be in the company of at least one of the children from the project Red Room. I always wanted to meet them, but never could. Was not allowed – boo!" he ended with a cute pout.
"..." Natasha did not react, refusing to comply with his humor on this subject.
"..." Russia frowned for the first time since he entered once he got no reaction. "I am sorry for their deaths."
"All part of the training."
"I did not approve that," he admitted darkly with a growl, thinking of reports held from him by people who were no longer alive.
She inclined her head, eyeing him. "As you say, господин Braginsky."
Taking a moment, Russia calmed himself and sorted his thoughts. "You hate me, Natasha?" It was one of the few questions he had for his former agent that he cared about being answered.
"Indifferent. I don't know you."
"Да...I suppose not...," he trailed off, lost in his thoughts, as the elevator reached her floor.
The red head stepped out calmly, apparently having decided his interrogation was over, and turned to him. "A pleasure, Ivan Braginsky."
She was sure to investigate him thoroughly after this meeting, he reflected, humored once again. Russia nodded, smile plastered once again. "Pleasure was mine, Natasha Romanoff," he replied.
She turned around to walk away and stopped after two steps. She turned back as the elevator doors were beginning to close. "Ivan?"
Russia blinked at his lone first name being used by her.
She smiled a beautifully sweet smile at him. "Don't show up on my radar."
The doors closed on her promise-filled eyes, and the elevator once again took him up. "Heh! Heh heh heh heh!" he chuckled, as he leaned back against the elevator wall. "I am happy that you were saved, Natalia," he stated in his own language to the reflective wall of the ceiling. "But I really wish I could have kept you."
TBC...
Post Script - Your reviews helped motivate me through writing motherfreakinNatashajeeze. Originally for this chapter, Natasha was more of a hardass, but I wanted to show her more charming side from the movies while also keeping in with her Widow personality. I like this rewrite a lot better now. Reviews also help me write faster - wink.
