"Wo ist Lorenzo?" Lutz asks.
"Probably fucking Eliza," Gilbert says bitterly. Both Germans are pretty down about the Lorenzo & Eliza situation. Poor babies.
Nikolai rolls his eyes at them, tapping on Gilbert's phone, his sisters either side of him.
"Yeah?" Eliza answers. Lorenzo can be heard shouting and cursing in a mixture of English, Italian and random spits of German, Hungarian and Russian.
"What's he shouting about?" Nikolai asks, frowning.
"He's angry you interrupted us. Again. You're a real mood-killer, you know."
"Only mood? Put Lorenzo on."
The phone clatters. "Ciao, bastardo."
"Don't use that sort of language at me. I have a deal for you. I like to know where all my family are, so be home in ten minutes and I'll give you, Eliza and maybe even Lutz some time off. Two months sound good to you?"
Lorenzo hangs up. He and Eliza are home within five minutes. Most people are creeped out by this, except Lutz, who is just angry. He doesn't take the time off, but Lorenzo makes sure he knows the offer's still there, ve~
Raivis, representative of Latvia, jumps when his phone rings, then frowns in confusion when the caller I.D. reads Mister Prussia.
"Hello?"
"Privyet."
Raivis almost drops the phone. "Mister Russia? Why do you have Mister Prussia's phone?"
"Because I am at Mister Germany's house, and he needs you to come over to discuss relations."
"Oh, okay," Raivis trembles, "I'll be over as quickly as I can."
Nikolai hangs up, then unhooks himself from his sisters and beckons for Lutz to follow him to the kitchen. Gilbert follows as well. "When Raivis gets here, knock him out."
"Was?" Lutz asks, shocked, "Doch vertraut er Sie! Er tat was Sie habt gesagt!" I would argue that Raivis is more scared of than trusting of Russia, but whatever.
"Yes, but how is he going to react when he realises we are the second players?"
"Das gilt. Doch muss es einen besseren Mittel sein," Lutz muses a better way, "Wie wäre es, wir vorgeben Einspieler sein?"
"It could work," Nikolai nods.
"Gilbert! Vorgeben Nikolai sein!"
"What?" is Gilbert's only response.
"Wait, why would Gilbert pretend to be me?" Nikolai asks, "He should be pretending to be you."
"Er sieht nicht aus wie," Lutz answers. The German brothers really look nothing alike.
"This won't work," Nikolai says.
"Nein? Plan A weider?"
"Mister Germany?" Raivis appears at the front door, still hung open from Natalya bursting in last chapter. Haven't these people ever heard of closing the goddamn door? No.
"In the kitchen!" Nikolai calls.
Lutz hides behind the kitchen door, and as Raivis cautiously walks through he swings the frying pan down over the shorter man's head. "Gott in Himmel; Eliza war genau!"
"Do we turn him now?" Nikolai frowns as he speaks.
"Warum fragt Sie mich?" Lutz answers, "Sie Sind das Boss, nicht mich!"
"Leave him like this," Nikolai says.
"Okay. Doch wo setzen wir ihn?"
"The basement."
"Gilbert lebt da."
"Da! Oh, right." Whoo, language jokes!
"It's alright," Gilbert appears in the doorway, journal under his arm and beer in his hand, "Just give me a couple of minutes to hide the stash and I'll stay upstairs."
"That's weirdly nice of you," Nikolai says.
Gilbert shrugs, "I'll be closer to the beer."
"Bier!" Lutz yells in agreement.
Lutz carries Raivis, Gilbert dashing off ahead. Nikolai remains in the kitchen, sipping at his vodka until Matthew slinks in, refilling his coffee.
Nikolai pulls a glass bottle, too flat and leaf-shaped to be a vodka bottle, the liquid too thick and gold in colour to be vodka, from an inside coat pocket and puts it on the table. Matthew blatantly ignores his existence. Nikolai pulls out the stopper, and lets the strong smell work its magic.
Matthew's head snaps round when he smells the syrup, eyes wide. "Is that..."
"Proper Canadian maple syrup. Your second player would do practically anything for just a little bit of this stuff."
"Really?"
"Yes. Biggest sweet tooth out of any of us. Oliver loves feeding him."
Matthew dives for the syrup, Nikolai snatching it away and holding it high, swinging it dangerously between his fingers almost six feet off the floor. Or two meters, as Europeans use meters, not feet.
"Don't drop it!" Matthew whines.
"Would you like some?" Nikolai asks sweetly.
"What have you done to it?"
"Nothing! Even I wouldn't dare mess with Matt's maple syrup."
"But you'll give it away?"
"I highly doubt Matt will be upset I shared his syrup with him."
"I'm not Matt."
"Do you want syrup or not?!"
Nikolai impatiently throws the frying pan on the stove and picks up one of the mixing bowls Oliver has left on the draining board. He throws in flour, eggs and milk and whisks it quickly, Matthew watching him carefully. The pancakes, a large batch, cook quickly and stack up on a plate on the kitchen table, nations often slinking in to collect pancakes and and slinking away again.
"Is this normal?" Matthew asks dumbly, "I didn't have you pinned as the cooking type."
"You pick up a lot of hobbies when you've been left without responsibilities for almost two hundred years."
Matthew eats quietly, slathering the round foods in maple syrup, and wolfing them down in his typical silent manner. Nikolai takes one, eating it plain.
It is silent for a long while. Because Nikolai is the protagonist of this bullshit, he breaks it; "Little Canadian, I have a question."
"And I suppose telling you to shut the fuck up isn't going to stop you from asking it?"
"No. Why did you come here? You are not a strong nation-"
"Yes I am!" Matthew interrupts. He's not as meek as a lot of fan fiction portrays him as. "I wanted to be the hero."
"But that's Alfred's job."
Matthew glares at him from across the table. He inherited that from Sweden.
"But if you were the hero, everyone would have to remember you," Nikolai continues to speak, "And if you were to join me, I would make sure that everyone remembered you."
"But you're doing really bad things!" Matthew whines, pouting like a child.
"I'm doing a good thing," Nikolai retorts, "I am protecting my sisters."
"By taking over the world?" Matthew asks skeptically.
Nikolai stares at him. "Have a beer."
Matthews only response is to roll his eyes.
Nikolai's eyes narrow. With a sweep of his arm, the table flies up and across into the cupboards, and Nikolai is charging across the vacated space to Matthew, grabbing the smaller man and pinning him to the floor by the throat, sitting on his legs and ignoring his scrabbling hands. Nikolai grabs a beer from the kitchen side close by, smashing the top off against the cabinet next to him and forcing the broken neck into Matthew's mouth, sealing his hands around it to stop it from being spat out.
Matthew chokes, beer and a little blood overspilling from his lips and over his cheeks. Most of the beer ends up on the floor and Matthew's face and air, and he breathes deeply, choking on air, as the bottle empties. There are tears in the Canuck's eyes as he continues to beat weakly at Nikolai's arms and hands and chest.
"Would you like another?" Nikolai asks sweetly.
"No!" Matthew barks, "No more beer!"
"Then you will join us?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Completely."
Nikolai takes another bottle, breaks the neck and forces it into Matthew's jaw. Matthew claws at Nikolai's hand, then up at his face, leaving two thin red lines in his cheek.
Calmly, Nikolai puts the half-empty bottle down, seizes Matthew's hand with both of his own and squeezes hard. Bone grinds on bones, fingers warp, until the bones snap into uselessness and agony, Matthew yelling and screaming.
Nikolai pushes him back down, replaces the bottle, but is more patient and gentle as Matthew obeys, drinking the beer as tidily as he can, cradling his injured hand to his chest. It is almost endearing to Nikolai how little pain and torture the younger man has endured.
"Would you like another?" Nikolai asks again. Matthew doesn't answer, and Nikolai sighs, giving the Canuck a pat on the head, "You have an option; either beg to join my family, or have another beer."
Matthew still refuses to answer. His shoulders shake as he sobs, arms pulled up over his head to hide his face, Nikolai having to force them back down.
Another bottle is reached for and broken, Nikolai forcing the broken glass into Matthew's mouth as Kumajiro barrels in, chased by Al.
"Want Canada!" Kumajiro screams, diving on the Canuck and snuggling into the beer-soaked chest.
"What are you doing?" Nikolai demands.
"I just wanted a hug!" Al whines.
"Hey Canada?" Kumajiro asks.
"Kumajiro?"
"Are we becoming one with Mother Russia?"
Matthew lies still for several seconds, careful not to look at the Russian still sitting on his legs. "Yeah, we are."
The representative of Canada, reunited with the representative of The Great North, barely reacts as the red light engulfs him. As it peels away, the beer-soaked hockey shirt has been replaced with red plaid and a mountie jacket, his converse with thick hunting boots, his small frame with a much larger, visibly strong one. His hair is longer and messier, tied into a bunch above his neck, the arms of a pair of sunglasses tangled in.
Matt looks up at Nikolai, frowning slightly at the larger man still sitting on his legs, "Not a sight I'm used to waking up to."
"Is he usually less dressed when you wake up?" Al asks with a grin.
Both Matt and Nikolai punch him in the knee.
Kurojiro scarpers off, and Matt sits up, Nikolai getting off him. Matt pick up the bottle of beer, taking a swig, ignoring the way the splintered glass slices into his chapped lips.
Headcannons;
Lorenzo is bisexual. He has a full parody of 'Bye, Bye, Bye' about it.
Most of the characters are multilingual. In the 'other universe' most of the nations speak some Russian, having picked it up from Nikolai, who reverts into it when he's tired, stressed and/or overworked.
Matthew couldn't be turned, because a piece of him (Kumajiro, representative of The Great North, which is Canadian territory) was missing.
I know the Raivis bit was kinda rushed, but he does come back in a few times later.
I own nothing
-Laurel Silver