Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
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Minimal fluff 09!
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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 10
Well, damn. America was gone.
Lithuania had figured something was wrong when Russia's house seemed sort of…quiet. He checked up on Sealand, offhandedly asking if the boy had seen the Admiral. The boy didn't, looking curious, but Lithuania didn't need to be raising panic so he quickly changed the subject. He searched for the crew members and asked if they had seen anything but they hadn't either.
He really didn't want to find Russia and ask. Being in the house brought back horrible memories and if it wasn't bad enough, Russia was popping up in strange corners, startling him out of his wits whenever he walked down a hallway. If it was the last thing he did, he wasn't going to ask Russia for help. There was always a price attached to everything Russia did for you and Lithuania didn't really want to risk it.
But things were getting frantic. The first day America did a no-show, Lithuania figured he was just trying to get his space. The Admiral was moody as of late, whenever it came to pirates or places where he wasn't the most awesome creature around. The second day, Lithuania was willing to shrug it off. But the third day turned to the fourth and America's absence was starting to be quite glaring. Lithuania didn't think Russia knew yet, as the house was rather big and those who didn't know America well couldn't really tell if he was hiding off sulking, exploring, or missing. But when the lieutenant went to confront America in his room and found a made-up bed and the air of desertedness, he was certain now that America had disappeared.
But where could that blonde have gone? Neither knew the Soviet Union well enough to wander off without getting lost. The Hero U.S. was still in the port when Lithuania looked outside so America couldn't have taken his ship and sailed off. Not to mention he couldn't have gone far and abandoned the rest of his crew. Nonchalantly walking through the house, Lithuania searched every nook and cranny and confirmed his suspicion: America was no longer in the house.
He had to think smart. He couldn't let any one else know their captain was missing or there would be mass chaos and Russia would swoop in to try and save the day. America could not have gone further east or north, as those were nonhospitable terrains. Going south made no sense as they were mostly trading caravans and he could find no reason why America would jump a caravan out of the blue. That left only the west, and to the west was the sea.
America may not have taken the Hero U.S. but he had sailed off by himself! Without leaving a note! Lithuania fumed as he visited the library in Russia's house to look up some maps. Honestly, America was a good captain and everything but someone really had to watch over him or he went crazy. Spreading a map of the Soviet Union, Lithuania scanned over America's options. America couldn't go too far off, so he mapped off a good twenty mile radius from their current location. It was possible that the Admiral may have gone to a coastal city but that blonde would have surely caused such a scene in those places that they would have gotten word about him by now. He'd have to send out word to look out for him.
There was only a small number of routes America could have gone then. There were a scattering of islands off the coast, like dots of freckles on the sea, but with the information about those islands, they were small and indigenous and he doubted America would be interested in places like those. That left only a considerably bigger island, the Neutral Republic of Switzerland.
Lithuania was starting to plan how to contact America when a strong pair of arms appeared and wrapped around his waist. Nearly leaping out of his skin, he felt Russia's breath tickle his ear. "What are you up to this time, Lithuania?" the man asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and warning.
"I'm…plotting our route after we leave."
"Mmm, but you won't be leaving soon."
Was that a threat? Lithuania couldn't tell. "When the ship is repaired," he replied, willing his voice not to shake, "and when Sealand can travel, we'll get out of your hair and go back home."
"Is that so?" Lithuania was swung around and pulled flush closer. "I don't mind you in my hair, Lithuania. Don't you like it here? It's just like old times."
Precisely the time he'd rather not remember. "Like old times," Lithuania repeated, cursing inwardly when he heard his voice waver.
"Remember when I would always hold you like this? After I forgave you for all the bad things you did." Russia nodded contently. "You got my clothing dirty with your blood but I forgave you for that too."
Lithuania shivered at the memory. He couldn't break Russia's grip and he didn't know what would happen if he did. He wanted to go, to run elsewhere. There had to be someone who saw the open door to peek in. Someone had to come. Russia's body warmth was by no means comforting; no, it was utterly terrifying.
Someone please come!
In the quiet, a strange accented voice suddenly floated into the room. "Like, Russia! Where've you gone! I came to visit and I like, totally couldn't find you anywhere!" Prancing in the open door, a blonde entered with a flourish. Not America, but Lithuania never felt happier to see anyone else in his entire life.
Waving his hands in a very jazz-hands manner, Poland finally looked up. "Please! This house, like I've always been tellin' yous, is…" He trailed off as he noticed Russia, then Lithuania. "Liet! You're back! How's it going, baby?" He took a step forward and saw the way Russia was holding Lithuania, extremely protectively.
"Hey…what's goin' on heres?" Poland's face darkened for a moment. "Reunion and I wasn't invited? Totally not classy, I'm telling you!" When no one else said anything, Poland dropped his hands. "Okay, you got me. Like, what's going on?"
"Hello Poland!" Russia said, his voice eerily cheerful. "You'd never guess. Your friend Lithuania's an Allies member now! Disgustingly wonderful, eh, comrade?" Shoving Lithuania forward, Russia's smile was looking more and more like that of an ax murderer. Poland helped Lithuania stand as the lieutenant stumbled forward.
"Totally? That's…" Poland trailed off again as Russia stormed out, carrying a cloud of foul mood with him. Lithuania kept his eyes trained on the floor as Poland watched the heavyset man leave before turning to his friend. "Liet, what's, like, going on? You've gotta tell me!"
Lithuania let out a long breath. "It's a long story, Poland."
--
Romano let the salty spray hit him in the face, blinking the water away that had gotten into his eyes. How long ago had it been when he was still stuck in the palace? He'd never thought he'd be getting up to stuff like this. He wasn't a very good sailor when he was younger, getting awful bouts of seasickness, but now his legs were no longer shaking. Would it be so bad to spend the rest of his days on a boat like this?
Probably, he thought, as he heard Spain's cheerful voice a distance behind him, talking to the crew members. Leaning against the edge, Romano sighed quietly to himself.
"Romano! What's wrong? You sick again?" Italy skipped (yes, skipped, Romano thought disgustedly to himself) up to his older brother. He was no longer sporting the frock from when he left Sparta (Romano had more or less forced him in pants) but he was still as innocent and housewife-ish as so. Slapping his brother on the back, Feliciano grinned. "That's right…just puke it out. You'll feel so much better!"
"I'm not sick, you girl." Romano shot a glare at Italy. "I've been on this ship longer than you have, so you've got no right to say anything like that."
Italy shrugged, before leaning his back against the edge. "We're going to be home in a few days," he said. "We'll see Rome-ji-san again. Are you excited?"
"No. I'm not going back."
"You've got to. You're an Italia heir. You can't spend the rest of your days on Spain's ship."
"Not just Spain's ship. But elsewhere. I can't stand the palace anymore. You'd like it though," he teased. "They've got lots of ruffles on palace clothing and who knows? Maybe Rome'll let you wear a dress again."
"You think?" Feliciano giggled. "But that aside…" He paused, staring at his brother. "I was wondering…Rome-ji-san was going to marry you off to Spain before you were kidnapped, right? What about now? Does that still stand?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I mean…you've been sailing with him for a while…do you actually like Spain now?"
"What?!" Romano felt a healthy blush scatter on his face as Feliciano stared at him. "I…I do not! What has he been telling you?!"
"Nothing. I just thought…maybe…I don't know…I was watching you two and you seemed like fiancés…"
"That's not…that's not…!" Romano shot a look at Spain. That idiot? Please! Maybe he was now indebted to marry that idiot curled freak but it didn't mean he liked him in any way shape or form! Spain felt daggers shoot in his back and turned, seeing Romano. He waved in a cheerful way, noticing how Romano's face seemed to get redder as he turned away.
"So…he's that horrible of a person, eh?"
"Yes!"
"Oh. If it'll make you happy, I'll talk to Rome-ji-san when we get back. I'll tell him that it's a bad idea to marry you off to Spain. He'll listen to me. Then he'll get out of your hair." Italy nodded at his plan.
"W-well…he's not that bad…and it's not like he'd give up that easily anyway!"
"So you do like him."
"I do not!"
"Italy." The twins turned as Germany walked up to them. "Ahem…I mean, Feliciano. You shouldn't stand so close to the edge. You know how you are…you might fall over."
"Ooh?" Feliciano leapt forward and threw his arms around Germany's neck, oblivious to the way the latter nearly cringed at the touch. "You won't let me fall overboard, will you?"
Romano groaned as he turned back to the sea. Maybe Feliciano was right…he was going to puke. Staring up again, he noticed a ship sailing toward them. "Spain!" he called, training his finger to the ship to keep it in view. "There's a ship coming."
Spain left the other crew members and strolled over, staring out at the ship. "Well, it's not a pirate ship at least," he figured, spotting a red flag. "It's definitely foreign. It doesn't seem aggressive…"
"What should we do?" Germany asked, still wearing his Feliciano necklace.
Spain waved a hand. "Give a warning to the canons but don't shoot yet. It might be harmless. We'll just have to see." Germany nodded as he made his way (Feliciano still around his neck) below deck. Romano turned to him.
"Is anything going to happen?"
"Hard to say," Spain said, stroking his chin. "This ship hasn't been a nuisance before, but things change, don't they?" He turned and smiled at Romano, earning him another pink blush. "What were you and your brother talking about?"
"Nothing!"
The ship pulled up next to them, slowly as if holding a heavy crew. There were a few crew members on deck, along with a spacey man whom Romano figured was the captain. At least, he didn't look like a crew member. He waved from the other ship, and Spain waved back as if it wasn't dangerous. Romano wanted to swat his hand.
"Hi!" the man called from the other ship. "Do you have any cats on board?"
It was a strange question and both Spain and Romano were speechless until there was a loud shout and the Valiente rocked unsteadily. By instinct, Romano grabbed Spain, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. Turkey floated into view with his carpet, cackling evilly.
"Well, what do we have here? Looks like the sea washed up a bunch of rats and some prized specimen!" He grinned as he looked down at his crew. "Go, men! Take the Italia heirs and kill everyone else!"
"To arms!" Spain shouted as planks fell onto the rigging. Italy, who had come up to see what all the ruckus was about, squealed and darted back into Germany's arms, who looked ready to fight.
"Stay below deck," Germany soothed, leading Italy back to the stairs. "Don't worry; I'll make sure they don't take you."
Italy was tearing up but he nodded. "Thank you, Germany," he smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as thanks. The serious blonde flushed slightly before hurrying Italy on his way below deck. There was another loud boom and more canons were fired onto the Valiente.
Turkey's crew flooded onboard, along with help from Greece's army. Greece himself tried to be part of the action but tripped as he crossed and tumbled onto deck. He didn't seem to be threatening so Romano ran past him to engage some of Turkey's fighters in battle.
"It looks like the little princess can fight now," Turkey called, observing the scene from above and scattering pepper into the eyes of anyone who looked up to attack him. "Who taught you, princess? It must be the prince."
"I'm not a princess!" Romano growled through gritted teeth.
The boat rocked again but this time, the Valiente had shot into the Istanbul. Spain's crew had managed to throw the planks overboard and steer away from Turkey's ship so the flood of fighters would stop and they could attack back properly. Germany was continuing to throw many injured enemies into the sea, fighting with his skill from under the blitzkrieg technique. Spain was gallantly defending the deck and holding his own against Turkey and his pepper shower. The sword training had paid off, he noticed, as Romano was defeating his own bunch of fighters as well.
Turkey growled in the air. The battle was not turning in his favor. Even with those damn Grecian soldiers, they were losing! And what was Greece doing? Crawling on the deck searching for stray cats? He flew lower to confront his 'ally'. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Infiltrating," Greece replied, looking tired. "But I'm usually napping at this time. I'm exerting too much at the moment."
Turkey almost sputtered. He floated up again to observe and noticed with horror that they were already outnumbered and most of his army was either swimming away or floating dead in the ocean. Gritting his teeth as Spain threw the last of the crew overboard (the Istanbul was on a sinking course as it hurried away after being peppered – ha ha – with cannonballs). He was going to have to take things in his own hands.
"I came for the twins," he snarled, "and I'm going to be leaving with at least one!" Swooping down like a falcon, he knocked the sword out of Romano's hand and yanked him up with him. "You may be superior on land," Turkey called as he tried to subdue a struggling Romano, "but I own when it comes to the air." He shook his head as Greece was discovered and thrown overboard without a scratch by Germany.
"Let me go, you perverted old man!" Romano cried, wrestling to free himself from Turkey's grip. "Dammit, Spain, help me out here!"
"Hold on, Romano!" Turkey was climbing higher in the air, dancing away from the poles where Spain could climb to get to him. "Admit it," he taunted, bending Romano's wrist so the boy cried out in pain. "You can't defeat me, and I'll just leave it at that and take my prize."
"Oh no you don't!" Italy had dashed on board, looking indignant. "You're not taking my brother again, you weirdo! Take this!" Throwing what he had been holding, Italy heaved a string of sausages up at Turkey, who jumped and accidentally let go of Romano, who had been struggling near the edge of the carpet.
"Pork!" Turkey yelped, trying to get the sausage off the carpet. "I can't stand that stuff!" He yelped again as Romano slipped off the carpet and tumbled into the air. He reached out to grab the twin when Italy threw another string of sausage. Giving an estranged shout, Turkey flew away, bucking the carpet to try and shake the pork off. "You think you've won!" he shouted, although he was starting to sound frantic.
Germany turned to Italy. "Did you take that from Berlin's sack?"
"Yes I did!" Italy beamed up at Germany. "Good, right?" The blonde looked away, scratching his chin sheepishly. "I guess." Italy giggled.
"Goddammit!" It seemed no matter where he went, he was always destined to be falling somehow. At the tower…he fell from a much higher distance! What was this? Life hated him, that was for sure. There was nothing to grab onto and Romano griped fruitlessly at the air. No, Spain had to catch him. He always did, right? "Spain…!"
As if his wish was granted, a pair of arms caught him and Romano's arms scrambled around Spain's neck. Spain held him close, gripping him as if he could slip through his fingers like oil.
"You're late," Romano wanted to shout, but it came out as a whisper as he buried his head in Spain's shoulder. "You should have saved me sooner, dammit. You let him take me. You…you…"
"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Spain murmured, holding Romano tighter. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"
"You damn right should be," Romano mumbled, his arms still tightly wound around Spain's neck. Warmth…warmth…he pined for it from that near-death experience, damn clothes…he wanted to feel the comfort of skin on skin, not necessarily in a sexual way…he let Spain seek out his lips and kiss him softly, right in front of all the battered crew, in front of Germany (who turned away respectfully), in front of Italy (who covered his mouth in surprise).
"I'm sorry," Spain whispered in Romano's ear, tickling the brunette's neck with his breath. "It won't happen again, I promise."
"Cross your heart and hope to die," Romano replied softly as Spain let him on his feet again. Spain took his hand and guided his finger in a cross over his heart and kissed the fingertips. Romano blushed as the adrenaline started to wear off and did he just kiss Spain in front of everyone?! Pulling hand away quickly, Romano retreated into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.
As the crew tended to their injuries, Italy rushed up to Spain with Germany in tow. "Spain! That was great! I didn't think Romano would let you kiss him, though! Don't worry, he'll be fine when he gets over it. I don't think he regrets it in the least! I'm hungry…I threw food at Turkey…do you have any food? I'll go look!" Running his mouth, Italy darted down below deck to see the cook. Germany cleared his throat and looked at Spain, who stared incredulously at him.
"Good catch."
--
Greece struggled to keep a wet hold on the floating piece of plank from the Istanbul. Damn Turkey…he knew that traitor would double-cross him and leave him stranded in the ocean. One could only tread water for so long. He doubted he would have enough strength to hold onto the plank…that and he was getting tired…
If only he had a cat. One cat could keep him awake until he could find the strength to swim a bit. He knew himself well enough to know he could swim a distance, and in that distance, he was sure to be spotted by someone. He wasn't sure how far they had sailed out from shore, but there had to be someone looking over him above to make sure he was rescued.
Was it karma? No, he didn't believe in karma. But he could have been cursed. What was he thinking, leaving Japan behind? He should have resisted. It was too late to regret it.
The water was cold, but he'd withstood colder before in the Mediterranean. He expected as much from Turkey. He pedaled a bit before sighing and stopping. He couldn't keep this up. He had missed his nap by four hours. He hadn't missed a nap in forever.
Dear mother in heaven…I'm sorry for disappointing you…the image of his mother, a beautiful woman hardened by the olive harvest and tanned by the Athens sun, floated in his mind and he closed his eyes and allowed it to take over. His grip slackened on the plank and he heard voices calling. As he floated into unconsciousness, he heard his name being called again and tried to rouse himself to see who it was.
It was a mirage. A mirage of a small boat sailing up to him. It had to be a dream. Greece struggled to keep his eyes open but they were too heavy and stubborn to fight against. He heard his name again, Greece!, but he closed his eyes still the same.
A hand, soft and delicate like an angel, touched him on one wet shoulder. His eyes fluttered open again and there was a goddess in front of him in dark clothing, or at least Hermes here to carry him to the underworld. There was a shout and a bunch of hands grabbed at him – yup, definitely he was being dragged…up? The underworld was really above?
He felt wood as he was laid on the floor of the boat and sunshine. He didn't think the underworld was quite such as bright. He cracked open an eyelid and saw someone staring down at him with dark eyes.
"Greece? Are you okay? Can you hear me? We'll get you to safety. Don't worry about it." Strange…Hermes was sounding more and more like Japan as time passed. Well, if he was given one last gift before passing on, he may as well take it. Reaching up, he pulled the mirage of Japan closer so their lips met. There was a slight movement of surprise before the lips kissed him back shyly.
"Hermes," Greece murmured. "Hermes…find Japan…and tell him I'm sorry I couldn't save him." He couldn't stay awake any longer and drifted off to sleep.
The rowers, who had taken the boat out to sea after spotting the survivor of a shipwreck, turned to the one who had implored for their help. Staring at the slumbering body then to the flushed person next to it, the leader cleared his throat. "Ahem…excuse me, mister…um, Japan, was it? Will he be okay?"
Japan looked up and a brief smile crossed his face. "Yes, he's going to be fine. He's just sleeping."
And Greece slept on, with dreams of white marble and cats.
To be continued
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Note: TURKEY! Fear not, dear readers, this is not the last time you've seen the last of that devious man/nation! Icky, more Spain/Romano! Poland is really hard for me to write. Trying to include a bit of mythology at the end…? Fail? I got a review saying I was writing equal parts of every single arc of this story. Am I? I feel like I'm focusing a bit more on the Italy pair…after all, there's really two big parts: the pirate part and the Italy part…I don't know. But of course, you guys will drink up anything fluffy? I don't want to be short changing the story by having tons of fluff. Review?