Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.

Author's Note: Thanks to all the following who have reviewed, commented, alerted, favourited: Widdiful Echidna, L-chan the Great, Pyololi, silvermoonbutterfly, MightySwordPen, Amdeloa, Schmo703529, Alaska-Acadia Jones, 101Icestormxx, Little-Bloody-Thing, Girloki, I am Sweden, Flyingraven, Chickenkitty, Sashenka Alexandra, Ninjakat405, Lady Sandra of Sealand, Elemental Cat, Tamarutaca, ludwigmylove, cross-over-lover232, Chelseaj500, QAQ, Xou, iTorchic, Latnien, citrine sunflower, Ankhasia Riddle, HiddenChaser, Kiyomisa, SullyWullybunny, , shadowraven45662, DrawedSoul, Kitty the Dinosquirrel, AmberFox and Lyell.

And thank you of course to all my anonymous readers and everyone who's stayed with me thus far. Not many chapters to go and then I'll wrap this story up.

Warnings: Loads of fluff – so much fluff you could stuff a pillow, also 'leetle Francis' makes a recovery, Prussia, Denmark. RussxLat fluff (both coherent this time)

Chapter 26 - One

"No, Alfred, I am your father."

"What?" Alfred, Belgium and Belarus all said.

"Hahaha, I was just messing with you! Good Lord, you fool I'm not your father. Heaven help us!"

"Well... I'm glad you're not my father. I'm America and I'm glad I'm not half-British. Haha. Seriously, dude."

Belarus took hold of England and shoved him out of the door and frog-marched him to her bedroom, she slammed open the door and shoved him inside. "Get in there and get your clothes off!" she said, not one for wasting time.

England stammered "Erm yes... b... b... but Bela I..." he blushed, "I don't have any condoms."

Belarus smiled, "I'm on the pill," she informed him and threw him bodily on the bed.

"Oh I say!" England said as she slammed the door behind her, "What a woman!" he said, not for the last time that night.

Downstairs, Lithuania and Poland had finally arrived back from their visit to the vets. Unfortunately they had been stopped by the Police – as predicted by Lithuania. Fortunately, Lithuania had been carrying Romano's driving licence and it was this that had received the extra points for: driving without due care and attention (Poland had distracted Lithuania by showing him his suspender belt), driving without lights (Austria had been too mean to buy new bulbs for his headlights), speeding (Lithuania wanted to get back to the house before Poland had divested of any more clothing) and driving the wrong way down a one way street. Unfortunately though they also received a fine of 500 schilling – but they gave the name of Roderich Edelstein which the Austrian Policeman happily took – as the fine-payer.

Poland got busy straight away, telling everyone that Russia was mistaken for a dog. Completely leaving out the juiciest gossip – that they'd left Latvia with him.

Down in the ballroom – the dance was about to start. In lieu of the host (Austria was lying in a hospital bed no doubt still shouting at Switzerland), Adelaide had taken charge, put a series of waltzes on the battered old record player and informed everyone they were to enjoy themselves. It was a rag-taggle bunch. Belarus and England were 'busy' elsewhere. America and Belgium had finally emerged – America looking very pleased with himself but also looking quite bedraggled – but were sat in a corner giggling and, as England would no doubt call it, 'canoodling'.

Italy was sat by Germany's bedside – the German Nation had barely moved since being knocked out by Lithuania. He was conscious but he was not the Germany everyone knew and respected. A change had come over him. One that the Italian thought was beyond his wildest dreams.

Norway was looking at his watch, "He should be here any time now," he thought, and for once he was not thinking of his idiot charge, Denmark.

Romano was a in a bad mood – there was nobody of any note to annoy or insult – this was soon to change. Greece was asleep – where he'd been most of the conference – in the conference room with a stray cat on his head, Turkey had taken himself off – he'd been annoyed after the Phantom of the Opera codename and had gone home.

There remained only Canada – who courteously asked Adelaide to dance with him. "Y..y..you know who I am?" Canada asked Adelaide. She nodded, and then rested one hand on his shoulder, the other curled in his hand, he gently placed his hand around her waist. He smiled, he was actually amazed, no-one ever remembered him. He'd asked her to join him for the dance earlier that day and had assumed that she would forget immediately, but she didn't. "You're Mr Canada, can I call you Matthew?" she asked.

Canada nodded and smiled, "Of course," and tightened his hold on her, he paused for a moment and waved at Kumajiro and then slowly waltzed around the room.

Adelaide had decided that out of all the Nations, the Canadian appeared to be the only one with any sense (apart from Lithuania), was handsome, cute and could perhaps, if she played her cards right she thought, get her out of this crapsack job. She was fed up of being shouted at by Austria and moaned at by her great x 6 grandfather, it was time that she got out and, she thought, being the wife of a Nation (if she could manage it) would suit her just fine. Besides she liked the idea of living in Canada – isn't that where everyone went to retire?

Vienna General Hospital

As it was now getting late, many of the inmates – erm patients – were bedding down for the night. Many – such as Austria and Switzerland – had been given sleeping pills to calm them. The two Nations had finally had to be sedated to stop them from doing each other harm. Only with the threat – from Hungary – that they would be transferred to the dreaded Ward 13 to join Prussia and France – had they accepted the medication and finally peace had reigned.

Over on Ward 13, Spain was visiting Prussia. The Spaniard had finally been kicked out of the children's ward with his guitar after one particularly big, unfriendly (to him anyway) nursing sister who was immune to his big brown eyes and 'gorgeous arse' (the nurses' words, not the author's (ahem)), found that he was not the father of any of the child patients (although his remonstrations that he was a 'dad many times over' did not go down well).

Prussia was giving the Spaniard instructions, hoping against hope that Antonio would complete his nefarious plan. "So you need to go down to the cellar and... are you even listening, Tony Dude?"

"I miss my niños," Spain said softly, his eyes had a faraway look.

"Yes, but I bet they don't miss you," Prussia said.

"You do not understand, you have never had children," Spain said.

"Kesese, none that I know about. I'm not that stupid, or un-awesome... or lame..." Prussia broke off. Actually now he came to think about it, a mini-Prussia would be awesome.

"I understand, Antonio, I miss mes enfants, also." Francis said dramatically.

"Shut up, Francis, you've had loads of kids, the population explosion is all your fault. You're a one-man baby boom," Prussia shouted and threw a pillow at the Frenchman.

"Oh, but leetle Francis is not working, he may never work again..." France was seriously worried about 'leetle Francis' – there had been no, shall we say, activity, all day – which for France was unheard of.

And then a small, cute blond nurse came bustling in with a tray of pills. "Oh, mademoiselle," France breathed, "You have come to give me a bedbath, non?" The nurse shook her head, she was used to idiotic male patients. "Honhonhon," France giggled, "I think she fixed leetle Francis."

Prussia proceeded to outlay his plan to Spain, hoping that the Spaniard would take in enough to see it through. It wasn't that difficult to remember, surely? He ignored the activity coming from behind the curtains that surrounded France's bed.

Suddenly, however, there was the sharp sound of a slap and the curtains were pulled apart and the nurse emerged pulling her skirt down over her thighs. She stormed off with a look of outrage.

"Honhonhon," came the sound from behind the curtains. This laugh was short-lived however, as two Austrian policemen arrived to arrest Francis for – in their words – 'being French in a confined space'. The author is unsure if this is actually a crime.

Prussia and Spain ignored all this, it was par for the course when spending any time with France. The Frenchman had been arrested so many times for such offences it wasn't really worth even commenting on anymore.

Also terrorising the hospital's female occupants had been Denmark, although none of them would see it in that manner. But Dr Den's tenancy was soon to come to a resounding end. He'd crashed through the hospital with Sweden and Finland in his wake, even going so far as to hide in the mortuary – in a steel cabinet drawer. He'd actually quite enjoyed playing a corpse and spent half an hour in the confines of a cold drawer, drinking his remaining bottles of Carlsberg, and releasing wind so that the sounds echoed around his metal casket. Awesome! He thought if he could belch particularly loudly it could make all the adjacent 'drawers' vibrate.

This was his undoing. He took one particularly long draught on his beer, took a deep breath and belched. He wasn't the King of Northern Europe for nothing, it was well known amongst his fellow Nordics that his 'wind' could propel Viking longboats – this was precisely how he'd sailed across the North Sea after all and invaded England – and the noise did indeed make the metal casings of the large cold chamber reverberate. But it also brought a shriek from the mortuary attendant. "Oh heck," Denmark thought. He shoved open the drawer and jumped down. The attendant promptly screamed and fainted. Having one of the corpses actually jump out of a drawer was the stuff of nightmares.

Denmark ran his fingers through his short blond hair and prodded the man, and then shrugged. He heard a thunderous roar coming down the corridor – Sweden and Finland he thought. But hey, at least his hair was awesome again. Obviously making out with cute nurses, singing bawdy songs with little kids and then scaring a mortuary attendant out of his wits had made him awesome again -awesome enough to have awesome hair. He grinned and then, just as Berwald and Tino charged in through the swing door, ran. However, his awesome hair was to be his undoing. As he ran, he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the metal cabinets and stopped. He grinned, snapped his fingers and said, "Looking good," immensely pleased that his hair was now vertical. Sweden and Finland, both running full pelt into the room, collided with him, knocking him off his feet and the three fell to the floor into a big Nordic mess.

Dr Pumplenickelstein's veterinary surgery

Russia woke with a start, it was still dark. He had a numb feeling in his left arm but other than that felt reasonably comfortable. His wooziness was gone as was his dizziness. He was laid on the hard floor of some kind of enclosure with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and in his arms was a small sleeping female form.

He gently pulled the girl closer and then he remembered, "I won't leave you," she'd said and she hadn't. He could feel her soft breath on his chest, she had one arm slung around his waist, the other curled against his chest. He gently nuzzled her soft blond hair and watched her gentle face stir a little. Her nose twitched in her sleep. She was so cute, so beautiful and he wondered what on earth he'd done to deserve this – his little sunflower – curled up against him.

He vaguely remembered her standing in front of him to protect him from Belarus. (He shuddered a little at that memory.) And then he remembered falling. The ride to the vets and laying on the hard metal table was just a hazy fog. All he remembered was her beautiful blue eyes gazing into his and her soft voice reassuring him. He would have followed that voice into hell itself, he thought.

He disengaged one hand from around her small waist and stroked her hair tenderly. "My love," he murmured.

Latvia woke up slowly, blinking for a moment wondering where she was. For a moment she thought she was back at home in Leningrad, in her bed, having the most delicious dream about Ivan... and ...oh. She could feel Russia's gentle breaths ruffling her hair and one large hand was around her waist, while the other was stroking her cheek. She thought for a minute that he was still asleep, but then realised that she couldn't hear the trademark snoring.

Do I just pretend to be asleep? I don't know what to do. I'm scared, but oh God, this feels so nice. Hmm, he feels so warm and strong. And I can feel his heartbeat, of course he has a heart. Shall I just... oh... he's stroking my back. Oh God, shall I stroke his back? Hmm, my knees have turned to jelly. I'm going to kiss him. No, I won't, yes I will... oh God, here goes.

She lifted her head and kissed him on the lips. Russia hands stopped their working and he froze and then hummed in appreciation, sending a vibration through both their bodies.

Russia murmured "Aija," softly into her lips. Lips parted and tongues darted, tasted and then they pulled apart panting. Russia brought his hands up to hold her face and gently pressed his lips to hers again, his lips brushing hers and then lovingly traced them along her jawline and ventured lower down to her neck. Aija sighed in appreciation and squirmed, placing both her hands around his neck and then stroked his hair. His scarf got in the way a little and she fumbled with the pink sunflower patterned wool. Ivan jerked his head up and shook his head.

"It's okay, Vanya," she whispered, "I've seen your scars."

Ivan softened a bit at her use of his patronym (only Katya or Natalya ever called him that) and relaxed, trusting her.

She unwound his scarf and he blushed, embarrassed. He hated people seeing his neck. He knew it was ugly and it also reminded him of his weakness. Aija gently stroked his cheek, soft tears forming in her eyes.

Ivan stroked the tears away, upset that she was upset and then drew her into his arms and gathered her to his chest.

"We shouldn't, I mean you're my boss and..." Aija broke off and cuddled him back, her hands on his broad shoulders, squeezing gently.

"Shhhh," Russia soothed her and stroked her lower back.

"I know but... Toris, Eduard and Feliks... I don't want them to know... if they knew..." she stopped, worried she'd offended him. "It doesn't seem right..." she trailed off.

"They don't need to know anything..." Russia murmured, "We can keep this between us."

"I don't know..." she said doubtfully. She actually just wanted to stay there, in Russia's arms in the Austrian's surgery and not have to face the other Nations. "Can I stay here a bit?" she whispered against his chest.

"Hmmm," Russia whispered back, "There's no rush. But you won't leave me will you?"

"No, I'm not going anywhere."

"I mean, ever?" Russia asked, still stroking her as if she were a little cat.

Aija looked up into his intense purple gaze, "Hmm? Ever? I..." It was one thing, she thought, whispering sweet nothings to him when he was barely conscious, but when he was awake and coherent was another thing. He was still Russia after all - big and intimidating.

"Little Latvia is mine now, nyet? Little Aija will stay with me and become one with Russia?" Ivan whispered, his voice wavering, his purple eyes not leaving her face. His hold on her tightened.

"Vanya, you're hurting me," she gasped, as she felt her breath being squeezed out of her body.

Ivan relaxed his grip a little, "I'm sorry, my little one, I would never hurt my little Aija." he whispered. "But you will be mine, nyet?"

"What, now?" Aija felt some trepidation, she was enjoying the cuddling and the kissing but after almost forty years of living the way she had, thinking of Russia as a lover again was giving her goosebumps. She felt scared, elated, happy and... so many emotions making her feel dizzy.

Russia thought about this, at least she hadn't said no, he reasoned. He buried his face in her hair and sighed happily, "Nyet, there is no rush. I can wait. Little Aija is mine." He said in a little sing-song voice.

Aija softly stroked his blond hair feeling all warm and fuzzy but with an underlying feeling of trepidation. What on earth did 'become one with Russia mean'?

"Ivan? "

"Hmmm?"

"Can we just go to sleep?" she whispered carefully.

"Hmmm, that would be nice," Ivan answered.

Aija curled up against his chest, one hand softly stroking his broad shoulder and tried to regain sleep. Russia almost immediately started snoring gently, his scarf wrapped around them both, his chin resting on the top of her head.

Author's Note:

I don't know what a traffic fine would be in Austria – schilling was the old currency before they brought in the euro and I couldn't find what 500 schilling would be in euros or whether this is even a feasible fine – if I'm completely wrong please feel to correct me.

Sorry for the cliffhanger in the last episode - I mean chapter – I couldn't resist the Star Wars reference as Alfred has been acting as Luke Skywalker all day. I was literally just messing around.

Niños – Spanish for children

Bit of Russ-Lat fluff coming out there, unplanned – but felt it was time to give them some lurve. Didn't want them to rush into anything - unlike EnglandxBela, AmericaxBelgium etc etc. Also I've swapped to calling them Aija and Ivan in this chapter for a bit – Russia and Latvia seemed a bit 'formal' for them now.