Disclaimer: Hetalia: Axis Powers, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this anime, does not belong to me. The plot itself belongs to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.
Title: A Long Winter.
Summary: When Russia develops an interest in America, he has trouble expressing himself.
Pairings: America/Russia, eventual Prussia/Canada, eventual Germany/Italy, implied England/France, unrequited Belarus/Russia, unrequited Prussia/America.
Chapter XI: Drunken Spats
Italy shares dinner with the world, and Canada experiences his first violent altercation.
Before Russia knew it, having mechanically lifted his fork to and from his plate and stared off into space, dinner was concluded. The pleasantly-stuffed countries finished their last sips of wine and earnestly congratulated the blushing Italian on a delicious meal.
Russia lightly patted at his lips with his napkin and placed his silverware on his empty plate. He folded his hands in his lap and struggled not to turn his head and glare fiercely at the noisy group down the table. He was jealous, and he was too stubborn to fix it, having spent his meal entirely in silence. He hadn't even bothered to listen to the polite conversation that emitted from what was dubbed as the "quiet side" of the table.
The silvery-haired man did take a quick peek from the corner of his eye to observe the events of the "loud side" of the table.
America was trashed, it was easy to tell. He had an arm around Canada, another arm around Lithuania, and both legs nearly propped up on the table. His mouth was wide open in a roar of laughter. He sloshed the remainder of his wine down the front of Canada's military uniform in his joy. Canada, though, appeared equally drunk, and he waved it off, banging his fist upon the surface of the tablecloth, flinging a spoon to the floor behind him. Lithuania, though not nearly as intoxicated as his companions, was laughing heartily at whatever Prussia, who was seated opposite Canada, had said.
A miffed England was making it his sole purpose for the evening to insure that America did nothing too drastic to embarrass him, like he was so prone to do in public functions. However, with France snaking a hand up his shirt and assaulting his ear, he was finding it impossible to focus on scolding the North American brothers for their inappropriate behavior.
Italy leaned over to assure England that he had expected nothing less from them, and he encouraged everyone to have as much fun as possible. Germany was at the head of the table, sipping at his glass of beer and barely refraining from slamming his hands on the table and calling for order, as if they were at a world conference. His jaw and fist twitched from the effort.
"You know, Prussia, with a joke like that, I can almost forget how much I despise you!" America chortled, leaning forward towards the silvery-haired man across the table, dragging his two drinking buddies with him. His words were slurred, and his cheeks were flushed. He seemed to be having difficulty keeping his mouth closed.
Prussia paused in his own amusement to give America a suggestive smirk. "Oh, really? Does zhat mean ve're going out now?"
Russia nearly tore through his gloves, which were residing in an inner pocket of his coat. He snapped his head to the side to shoot daggers at the smaller nation, whispering, "Kill, kill, kill..." under his breath. Greece nearly jumped out of his skin from the scary display, subtly scooting his chair a few inches to the left.
The American found the statement hilarious, and he slapped his knee, almost breaking Lithuania's nose in the process. "Y-yeah, in your dreams, man!"
Lithuania squirmed his way out of America's crushing grip and rubbed at his bruised nose. He patted the blond man on the back and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Easy... Russia looks pissed off."
Either America didn't hear what his brown-haired friend had whispered, or he didn't care, for he was suddenly shooting a foot into the air and squawking loudly. He stabbed an accusing finger in what he thought was the direction of Prussia, but to everyone else, he was threatening the punch bowl. "H-hey, dude! No! No, you can't do that!"
"Vhy not?" Prussia purred, retracting his wandering foot a bit. "You seem drunk enough."
Canada flung an arm around his brother protectively and glared at the two Prussias that swam in front of his vision. "I don't know what you did... and I don't care, but that's my brother!" he slurred, shoving his glasses back up his nose.
The crimson-eyed man looked taken aback and turned his attention to America's look-alike. "Vhoa, how long have you been zhere?!"
America and Canada looked at each other for a few silent seconds, then burst into laughter.
"Oh, c'mon, that joke is, like, so old now..." America informed him. "Everyone knows Canada exists now! He's my bro!"
Prussia waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I vouldn't know, since Germany is talking about banning me from zhe world conference. Isn't zhat right, Bruder?"
Germany's eyebrow arched. "You have brought it upon yourself. Most countries do not appreciate having a foot jammed into zheir crotch vhile zhey are attempting to learn about zhe vorld's problems. I vill not receive anozher complaint again." Though his words were spoken with a serious tone and an air of finality, the North American brothers erupted into a new fit of giggles over it.
"I von't do it again," Prussia promised with a bat of his eyes and a cheeky grin. "Please, Bruder?"
"Fine," he sighed. "But I'd better not receive anozher complaint! I have more important zhings to vorry about."
With a fist pump of victory, Prussia announced to the table, "I, zhe awesome Prussia, vill be at zhe next vorld meeting!"
England groaned and massaged his temples. "It's bad enough with America there, but please tell me they will learn to behave themselves!" He raised his eyes and cringed at the sight of overturned bread baskets, spilled wine and punch, and food crumbs adorning the once immaculate table. He turned his head to give Italy a pitying expression. "I will stay after dinner to assist you with the tidying up, Italy."
"Ve, thank you!" Italy appeared as happy as can be, having taken the seat directly to the left of Germany. He twirled the stem of his empty wine glass in one hand and peeked at the German man through the glass. A thought came to him, and he jumped to his feet to address the entire table with, "Oh, I hope you will-a visit the cafe across the street! They-a serve some delicious treats!" He didn't appear to be in a hurry to clean up, and he sunk back down into his seat and laid his head on the table so he could peer up at the bright blue eyes that regarded him warily.
Countries began standing from their chairs, bidding their farewells, and filtering out to either their hotel rooms or the street to engage in the nighttime activity.
America wanted to follow the countries that exited through the double glass doors, but his legs weren't working. He found that he was unable to muster enough strength to force himself to his feet. It amused him greatly, though he did feel a twinge of irritation. "I wanna go outside!" he complained loudly, banging a fist on the table's surface to emphasize his point.
Prussia perked up, jumping to his feet and making his way around the table, tugging at Italy's curl affectionately as he did and dodging a swipe from his brother. When he neared the drunken American, he suddenly froze and narrowed his eyes.
America swiveled his head to the side when Canada abruptly disappeared, and he was astonished to find violet eyes staring into his own blue. He smiled lazily and commented, "Prussia, your eyes are so... pretty." He was confused when the pair that he was looking at became angry, and a voice oozing with glee boomed from behind him, "Danke, America!"
Prussia? Russia narrowed his eyes, scowling. He was deeply insulted that he had been referred to as "Prussia," but a tiny part of him couldn't help but realize that America was so drunk, he hardly knew where he was. Still, seeing Prussia sending him gloating, smug smiles was infuriating him. Ignoring the other nation, he flung America's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist to steady him. Guiding the man to his feet, he began urging him towards the staircase.
"Vhere do you zhink you are taking him?" Prussia's voice rang out behind him.
Russia would have liked to ignore the man, but America was suddenly squirming energetically to get out of his grip.
"I wanna go outside, I said!" America repeated his complaint. He tilted his head back to arch an annoyed eyebrow at him. "If you won't take me outside... Mattie! Where's my brother? Mattie will take me!"
"Alfred," Canada spoke up from his place on the ground under his overturned chair, "I will take you to the cafe. But... my legs don't work either..."
Lithuania, who had retreated back a few chairs when he noticed Russia approaching, sighed and shook his head. He made to stand up and place the Canadian on his feet, but he was stopped by Prussia, who scooped the small man up into his arms as if he were a dainty new bride.
"I've got it!" Prussia said. "Come, Russia. Let's take zhem to zhe cafe. Clearly zhey have not had zher fill of fun for zhe evening."
Russia gave him a deathly glare and urged America forward towards the double doors wordlessly.
Italy, who had been inching his fingers up Germany's arm, perked up. "Oh, that-a sounds wonderful!" He didn't remember having been the one to suggest it, but it sounded favorable to him. "Let's-a go to the cafe!" As he said this, he promptly fell face forward onto the table, snoozing away.
Germany shook his head in annoyance and smiled apologetically at everyone else. "I vill need to take him to his room now."
The countries parted and made their way to their intended destinations, leaving England and France to deal with the 'cleaning.'
"Zhat scarf looks absolutely pristine," Prussia remarked, leaning over the cafe table he was seated at to study the fine knitting of the new piece of cloth that was hugging Russia's neck. His crimson orbs darted up to meet the man's cold violet ones. A smirk crawled onto his face. "Surely you vouldn't mind if I borrowed it for a vhile?"
Russia's hand shot out and clamped down onto Prussia's, which had been inching towards his gift. His pale fingers dug into the other man's equally pale skin with a merciless intensity. "Da, I would mind."
"Hey, relax!" the albino man exclaimed, waving his free hand in surrender. "I just vanted to look at it. Vhere did it come from?"
"It was a gift."
"Ooh, from whom?"
"America gave it to me," Russia revealed, catching the attention of the sobering man seated beside him.
"Wha—? Oh, yeah. I gave him that scarf. I never thought he would wear it!"
"Vhere's mine?" Prussia complained, shooting America a pleading expression. "You never get me anyzhing..."
Lithuania, who had regretfully taken his place on the opposite side of America from Russia, tensed. He could feel the air around them become chilly with Russia's hateful aura. He knew when things were best turned to a different subject. "America, what are you going to do after this?"
"Mm... I dunno yet, dude. I guess it depends on what you guys are up for."
"I'm up for anything!" Canada exclaimed, swaying dangerously in his chair. He had brought another glass of wine from the party, so he was still feeling the full effects. His eyes were unsteady, but he oozed confidence and charisma. At this moment, he was as outgoing as his brother, and the group could hardly tell the brothers apart. "Dudes, let's go to a movie or somethin'."
"Canada, you're so fucking drunk. England would shit himself if he saw you right now," America informed him with a chuckle. He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Maybe we should just always keep a beer near you. You'd be the life of the party. Even I'm a little tired after all that happened at dinner."
"You are going to be so sick tomorrow," Prussia spoke up, flicking Canada's ear. "You vill vake up und moan, 'Oh, Prussia, vhat zhe hell did I do last night?' Und I vill respond, 'Nozhing you didn't ask for, mein Lieber.'"
America gawked at the crude silvery-haired man across from him, while Lithuania pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Russia's expression soured considerably.
Canada appeared to contemplate this seriously for several seconds, but the effort became too much for his alcohol-addled mind, and he broke out into a wide grin. "So how aboot that movie?"
"Perhaps I should stay in your room tonight..." America trailed off, unsure. He frowned at Prussia's lecherous smile. "My brother had better not be raped when he wakes up in the morning."
"I'm all for zhat idea!" The man paused for a few seconds, allowing America to gawk and wonder just what he was referring to. "I've alvays vanted to try a threesome."
The armrests of the chair Russia was seated in promptly shattered with the force of the furious man's grip. Before Russia could beat Prussia to death with his iron pipe, Canada was stumbling out of his chair and wobbling in the direction of the entrance, having lost interest in the proceedings and looking for entertainment.
"Canada! Wait up, bro!" America bolted from his seat to escape the heavy tension that hung in the air. He took two steps towards Canada, but a hand stopped him in mid-step. He turned his head to look down at Russia, who frowned up at him, his violet eyes troubled.
"Amerika, I am uncomfortable with this. Do you want to go back to our room?"
Prussia narrowed his eyes at them. Just as America opened his mouth to reply, there was a yell from the direction Canada had disappeared, followed by a sickening crack that echoed ominously throughout the cafe. People's conversations broke off, and several gasped in horror. America immediately sped off around the corner of the nook they had sat in, and he was greeted by the sight of blood splattered on the ground, leading to a fallen Canada. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in a voiceless shout.
Russia, Prussia, and Lithuania appeared next to him, also surveying the scene with mixtures of confusion, dread, and concern. Prussia was the first to react, though, and he hurried to the fallen man, lifting him. "Vhat zhe hell happened?!"
It was then that they noticed a few civilians standing a few feet from Canada, angered. The German man clutched his girlfriend possessively and spat something at Prussia in German.
"What the hell is he saying?" America demanded, taking menacing steps towards the civilians.
"He said zhat Canada tried to assault his girlfriend, so he was defending her," Prussia translated, his eyebrow furrowed. "Zhat doesn't sound like your Bruder."
"Canada wouldn't do something like that! Tell him, Prussia. He just hit my brother for no reason!"
When Prussia translated hesitantly, the couple grew angrier and began shouting and pointing at them. The rapid German flew through the air, back and forth between the two parties. The employees were inching towards the phone, debating on whether they should call the police or not.
"If they don't shut up, I'll...!" America wasn't able to finish his sentence because Russia was gently pushing past him and holding up a hand, asking for silence.
Russia calmly made his way up to the man and his girlfriend, who broke off in their yelling and fearfully took in his bulk and height. He brought his hand up until it was level with his face, and he stared at it thoughtfully. Seconds later, he reared it back and threw his clenched fist at the man, connecting solidly with the man's jaw, sending him flying through the air until he hit the wall behind him.
"Canada is much too drunk to remember how to walk, let alone assault someone," Russia replied coolly. "It is just a drunken spat."
Prussia jabbed a finger in the direction of the shaking woman who was kneeling over her fallen boyfriend and barked out a command in German. When she nodded numbly, he sighed harshly, pushing Canada's sweaty bangs from his face and removing the shattered glasses. His crimson eyes trailed over the man's busted lip and nose.
America knelt beside him and grabbed for Canada's hand, and Lithuania joined them. "Poor guy... I don't even think he'll remember any of this tomorrow."
Prussia snorted. "I don't zhink zhat guy," he gestured towards the man that was slumped against the wall, "vill remember his own name, at zhe very least."
"That was one hell of a punch." America's eyes lit up, and he turned to give Russia an appreciative grin. "Thanks for standing up for my brother, dude."
Russia smiled sheepishly.
Prussia rolled his eyes, ignoring his twinge of jealousy. "Let's get Canada back to zhe hotel room before he bleeds all over zhe floor."
