Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
Russia thought he would go mad from the anticipation. A couple days had passed since he had stupidly put the idea of escape into America's head. Since then, his 'captive' had acted like nothing had happened, spending his time eating with Russia, using him as an interpreter for television, chatting about random nonsense, blushing at the weirdest things, or spending time in his room.
He was half tempted to just let America leave when the time came. Or maybe one-fourth tempted or something. Possibly one-eighth, if only because now that he had America staying with him, the thought of him leaving was fairly unappealing. A friend living with him was what he had wanted, after all.
It was with relief one day that he finally saw America sneak upstairs, tongue poking out as he crept up the stairs under the impression that he was unobserved (maybe?). Thank goodness. Russia picked up the book he had been reading and wondered how long he should wait before 'catching' America.
He dropped the book in surprise when he heard a small crash from the entryway, along with America's muffled curse. Wait... America was good, but he wasn't that good. He had just gone upstairs, what was he doing by the front door? Curious, Russia tiptoed closer, peeking into the room. He didn't want to be seen, ruining whatever bizarre plan America had concocted.
America was picking himself up, having tripped over the umbrella stand. Muttering to himself, he picked the overturned stand up, tossing umbrellas, canes, and pipes into it as quietly as he could, apologizing to the objects all throughout.
Russia blinked. Why was America apologizing to the umbrella stand?
And why was he wearing a maple leaf hoodie?
…
What was Canada doing breaking into Russia's house?
The intruder glanced around, and Russia ducked back around the wall. Oh no... Eyes widening, Russia suddenly found it hard to breathe. Oh no. Oh no. He tore up the stairs as quietly as he could, flinging open every door along the hallway until he located America, humming as he tied sheets together into one long rope. Russia flung himself at America just as he approached the window, who gave a surprised squawk as they tumbled to the floor together.
"R-Russia!" America gasped, and his own eyes grew big and round, color draining from his face. His look of terror doubled Russia's heart rate. "O-oh, hey. Um..." He looked around. "It's not what it looks like..."
Russia stared at him for a moment before his head drooped in relief. America was acting. Only acting. He wasn't actually terrified. And yes, now when Russia looked, he could see a pleased glimmer in the horrified blue eyes.
"That was kinda overdoing it a bit though, huh?" America added in a stage whisper.
"No, it's not that," Russia said, shaking his head. "You can't leave now." What if Canada had walked in on America's attempted escape?
What if he walked in on them now? Face red, Russia rolled off of America.
America remained on the floor, head tilted. "I'm confused. It's not that, but it is that?"
"Canada's here," Russia hissed.
"Really? Canada?" America grinned. "Why, I wonder what he's..." He trailed off with a scowl, eyes narrowing. "Why is Canada here?"
"He broke in! He's... he's looking for you." Russia started to pace, nibbling on a fingernail. "I told him. I'd forgotten about that, it was early."
"You told him?"
"Not that you're here. He called because they're worried about you, and-"
"Really?" Another smile graced America's features. "They are?"
"Of course! What did you think would happen after you just disappeared? I'm sure the world is starting to panic!"
"Ah... um, oh." America's face fell. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that."
"Worry about that later." Russia covered his face with his hands. "Canada called the other day, and it was early, and he asked if I had seen you and I said no..." He glanced over at the other man, wondering if he would have to explain just why that was a bad thing.
"Ohh." Much to Russia's relief, understanding dawned in America's face. "So if he found me here..."
"Exactly..." Russia leaned against the wall, while America finally rose to his feet. "They probably wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. They would think you had... what is it called..."
"Stockholm Syndrome?"
"Yes, that."
"Well, don't worry." America grinned. "It's a big place, he won't find me. I'll stay somewhere he would never expect me to be."
"Where is that?"
"Beats me. I'll go find it." America strolled off while Russia mentally pulled out his hair. And then Russia hurried out of the room, trying desperately to think of what incriminating America-related evidence he would have to hide before greeting his... guest.
Canada swallowed nervously, feeling like a terrible friend as he rummage through the sink. But his brother was more important. If he was there...
Two mugs, he thought, picking one up to sniff at it. Coffee. But that doesn't mean anything, lots of non-England people like coffee. Russia might like two cups. This might be a couple day's worth of dishes. It doesn't mean anything. He sighed. Or he could have just had a guest over. One of his sisters or something. I'm being paranoid.
Finding nothing particularly useful in the kitchen, Canada continued on through the large house that had grown considerably more intimidating since the last time he was there. Every once in a while he heard a noise and jumped, then reassured himself that the sound was coming from far off. Russia wasn't about to walk in on him. If it turns out he's innocent, I'll have to send him something nice as an apology. Canada smiled to himself. Maybe Prussia. This is his fault, after all.
The various rooms weren't very interesting, either. A library, an old unused bedroom, a closet, and... a door that locked from the outside? Canada paused at that one, frowning. Why would a room lock from the hallway side? And with so many locks, too... Interesting. He tried the knob, and the door swung open. Canada's blood ran cold as he gaped at the interior.
A small bed that had been recently used, haphazardly made. A television. A shelf of American comic books. An attached bathroom, and only one tiny window, unsuitable for escape.
Where is he? Canada thought desperately as he took a few pictures of the room with the camera he had brought. He's been here! Where is he now?
But the small room remained unoccupied, save for Canada himself. Having acquired the evidence he needed for that room, he left, closing the door behind him. It hadn't been locked, so he left it unlocked, and hurried away. He would prefer a bit more solid evidence before he ran off to show the others—something belonging to America, perhaps—and even better if he could locate his brother, himself. I'll find you! Please be safe!
He turned a corner, and ran right into Russia with a squawk. His heart froze, blood draining from his face. Oh nooo! I'm dead! Deaddeaddeaddead...
Russia reached out to help Canada regain his balance. "Hello~ What are you doing here, Canada? I don't remember hearing the doorbell..."
"Oh, n-no?" Canada forced his lips into a wide grin. "Haha! I didn't even notice the doorbell. I just knocked, and you must have been too far away to hear because you didn't answer, so I just let myself in."
"Ah. I see." Russia patted Canada on the head. "I apologize for missing your knock. Would you like something to drink?"
"S-sure!"
And as they turned to head back into the kitchen, Canada's heart stopped again in sudden realization. He... he called me Canada, without hesitation. Like he has reason to know there's no way I could be America...
Russia tugged a bottle of water, as requested, from the refrigerator. He wondered if Canada could actually hear his internal panic. It was so loud, surely he must. He shoved the water into his intruder's waiting hands, smiling what he hoped was a friendly smile. "So... What brings you all the way to Moscow?"
"Business!" Canada said quickly. Too quickly. His eyes were a little wild.
"I do not recall any business with you." If Russia was going to panic himself to a heart attack, may as well do the same for Canada...
"Not with you! But as long as I was in the neighborhood, I thought I would drop by." Canada's smile was rather strained. What a terrible liar.
"I see." How to get him the hell out without seeming obvious about it? Ah! "I actually have a meeting with my boss soon. I apologize, but maybe we can reschedule..." He had no intention of inviting America's brother back, but he couldn't very well say that.
"Oh! You do, huh?" Canada's eyes flicked nervously around. "Well, if you don't mind, I can wait for you. Maybe tidy up around here, do some chores for you...?"
Nice try. "Do not worry yourself. I do not know how long I will be, it would be best if you returned to your hotel."
"I do not mi-"
"I prefer not to have guests hanging around when I am gone," Russia said. "I hope you understand." He didn't really want to have to do anything drastic to Canada that involved faucet pipes or something along those lines. America would not be happy, probably. Russia held his breath.
Finally, success. With a sigh, Canada nodded. "Maybe I could use the bathroom first?"
Fortunately, the closest bathroom did not contain any of the toiletries America had been using. Probably. Russia nodded and led the way, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear as they walked. He could just see the idiot wander on by. Or come up with some stupid method of hiding, like mimicking Canada's actions from behind a window and pretending to be a mirror. He would do something like that.
But they did not run into him between kitchen and bathroom. Russia flicked the light on and swept a quick gaze around, finding nothing incriminating. He gave Canada a friendly nod. "Right in there."
It would seem too creepy for him to hover too close to the bathroom, so Russia wandered down the hallway, waiting. Just leave... just go home. Don't take him away...
Russia sagged against the wall when he realized he really needed to convince America to go home. He was just going to get in serious trouble with the rest of the world, most likely sooner rather than later. And even if he didn't, America had his own country to deal with, and everyone was worried...
The thought of America leaving was unappealing, to say the least. But... well, maybe once this mess was cleared up, America could come over for real visits. That everyone else knew about.
Russia sighed, listening to the innocent sounds from the bathroom—toilet flush, sink run, door open—and Canada stepped out, smiling. "All right. I'll be heading back to my hotel now."
"Very well."
Russia had no way of knowing that, when he glanced into the bathroom, he had completely overlooked the pair of Old Glory boxers mixed in with his own laundry pile. He also had no way of knowing that those boxers were gone now. He was just happy that Canada was leaving without a fuss, and he could go find America.
