Consciousness dawned slowly on Canada. Gradually, he became aware of the fluffy pillow beneath his cheek and the heavy comforter keeping him cosy and warm. A thin beam of brilliant sunlight was peering between the drawn charcoal colored curtains, casting a small vertical streak across the room. The air conditioning hummed overhead, cheerfully working to keep the room a pleasantly cool temperature, one more suited to a woodsy Canadian than the usual swampy heat of Washington D.C. in the summer.
The peaceful quiet was comforting to Canada's drowsy mind. His brother's pestering texts the night before had kept him up far too late for his own comfort but the barrage of messages and pictures had finally ended with America and his guests boarding their west-bound plane.
He'd fallen asleep soon after his phone stopped buzzing like something possessed. And now, peering out to the mostly dark room with sleepy eyes, Canada felt more relaxed and well rested than he had since before the meeting. Kumajiro was a familiar weight against the back of his knees, the soft sound of the bear cub's slow, steady breathing telling him his lifelong companion was still fast asleep.
As sensation and awareness continued to grow in Canada's mind, he slowly became aware of the feeling of a hand resting lightly against the top of his head. This was puzzling but he just couldn't bring himself to feel upset or worried. As though this strange presence was comforting and welcome.
An undetermined amount of time passed. Canada continued to snuggle into the bedsheets, dreamy and content. Eventually, somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered: Prussia. His European friend had ended up sharing his room last night, having apparently not bothered to make any alternative arrangements.
And that, Canada realized, meant that the fingers loosely threaded through his hair probably belonged to the ex-Nation.
He should probably do something about that, Canada mused. Slowly, mindful not to accidently kick or jostle Kumajiro, he reached up, gently grasping Prussia's hand, then rolling slowly over onto his back to dislodge the offending appendage and settle it on the bed beside him. Once he was flipped onto his other side, Canada squinted, peering with blurry vision at the other personification.
Prussia was lying flat on his back with his mouth hanging open and a thin line of drool leaking down onto the pillow. His arms were stretched out to either side - one stretched towards Canada and the other dangling off the side of the bed. He'd tugged the bedsheets up to his chin, hiding most of the old ratty t-shirt he'd worn to bed. And on the pillow next to his head, Gilbird was snuggled into a makeshift nest.
After staring at Prussia for a few moments, Canada rolled back onto his back and reached out to the nightstand, groping for his phone. After several misses, the cool glass face of the device appeared under his fingertips. Grabbing it, he brought it close to his face, mindful of the charging cord snaking across the surface of the nightstand.
Clicking the device awake, he was startled to see that it was well past 10 in the morning. 'I must have been even more tired than I thought!' he realized. Putting the phone back to sleep and holding it loosely against his chest, Canada relaxed against his pillow, snuggling back under the bedclothes once more. He wasn't flying back home today, so there was plenty of time to just laze around for a while.
There was also, he realized absently, the problem of England and France. Prussia had spun out a number of different scenarios the night before but Canada was fairly certain (well, completely certain) that no mixture of kidnapping, prolonged tickling, or subliminal messages would convince them to ease up about America.
No, in the end, the only thing he could do with any chance of success would be to actually sit down with them and discuss the matter like adults.
Canada sighed. He could already feel the bitter bite of defeat.
"Mmph, it's too early to be grumpy," Prussia suddenly mumbled.
Startled, Canada jerked his head around to stare at the other man.
On the other side of the large, king-size bed, Prussia yawned, blinking sleepily as he rolled over onto his side to face Canada. A wave of fondness struck the ex-Nation as he took in the sight of Canada.
The northern Nation's hair was delightfully rumpled, the wavy curls in his blonde hair going haywire all over the pillow. Clutching his phone to his chest, Canada was squinting determinedly at Prussia, a hint of color on his cheeks. The hand not grasping at his phone had seized the sheets, tugging them up over his mouth, as though there was something shameful about revealing his worn hockey shirt to Prussia's prying eyes.
Gott, Canada was niedlich. If he kept looking at Prussia like that, he'd have to whisk him away and go to- to- Disney World. Or somewhere similar. Somewhere cute. Canada would fit right in.
Prussia reached out and poked Canada square between the eyes, chuckling inside as he watched the other man's eyes cross.
"You are not even out of bed yet," Prussia insisted, biting back a yawn. "Stop thinking so much."
Canada merely huffed, looking disgruntled. "I was just thinking about England and France," he admitted, biting his lip in the most adorable fashion. "They're flying home tomorrow, so we only have today to talk to them."
"I told you last night," Prussia huffed in exasperation, "we get that woman of America's to find us a secluded warehouse outside of town and-"
A pillow slammed into his face.
Prussia stared at Canada in shock; he had the pillow drawn back again, a bright light in his eyes. The northern nation was sitting up on the bed now, phone placed securely back on the nightstand. "You- that's-"
"Yes?" Canada asked quietly, raising an eyebrow, pillow held at the ready.
"Right." A fierce light entered Prussia's eyes. If this was how he wanted it, so be it. He grabbed his own pillow, but, just as he was preparing to swing, Kumajiro's head popped up between them.
"Hey, I'm hungry!" the bear demanded, swiveling his round fuzzy head back and forth, giving both Canada and Prussia an irate look. "So stop playing!"
"The awesome and mighty Prussia does not play!"
Canada could feel a chortle building up in his chest. Prussia looked thoroughly offended at Kumajiro's words. He also looked as though he wanted to give the bear a whack with his pillow but was suddenly self-conscious of being perceived as "playing".
"Why don't we get dressed and go find an early lunch?" Canada offered once he'd successfully squashed the fit of laughter building up inside himself.
"Yes! Food!" Kumajiro cheered. The bear quickly climbed up over Canada and dropped off the side of the bed, hurrying over to where Prussia's luggage sat on the floor near the desk. "Come on!" he urged, grabbing the bag with big paws and dragging it towards the bed. "It's lunch time!"
In the end, it took nearly forty-five minutes for Canada to get ready. Prussia had found himself sitting idly in his chair watching in fascination as his North American friend darted all over the room, gathering up bits and pieces of his non-business attire, taking care of "emergency" emails from his boss, and tugging a hungry Kumajiro away from the goldfish swimming in nervous circles in its bowl on the armoire.
Canada's scatterbrained approach at getting ready to leave meant Prussia had plenty of time to take in the room's . . . eclectic decor.
The room was a riot of color, from the yellow walls, periwinkle blue chairs, lime green chandeliers, and orange and red damask pillows. The bed's headboard was a massive, towering thing, almost double the width of the bed it sat behind and covered in black circles and dots. Most dramatically of all was the five and a half meter ceiling.
Prussia could only assume that Canada's large, luxurious room was somehow America's doing. There were clearly perks to being the brother of a superpower!
Finally, Canada breathed a soft sigh of relief and gave Prussia a sheepish look. "I think that's everything, finally," he murmured, a hint of a blush touching his cheeks. "Sorry to take so long. I always have trouble keeping track of things in hotel rooms."
"It's no big deal." Prussia smirked and rose to his feet. "I, the amazing Prussia, have devised a new plan!" He preened slightly, ready to accept Canada's praise.
"O-oh, really?" Canada looked a bit nervous. "Why don't you tell me about it on our way to get lunch?" he suggested, absently reaching out to grab Kumajiro.
"I, the awesome Prussia, will graciously bestow upon you my awesome plan over lunch," Prussia agreed. He whistled softly, waiting patiently as Gilbird flew over and landed on his head.
With their companions in tow, the two personifications headed out. Prussia's head kept turning as they made their way down the hallway and to the marble staircase. The different floors of the massive hotel had different wallpaper and carpet runners, everything from elegant ferns to dramatically repeating images of various American Presidents' faces.
Finally, the small group reached the first floor. They hurried through the almost painfully green colored lobby and finally stepped out into the sweltering, humid, summer day.
"Disgusting," Prussia complained as he immediately started to sweat. "Where are we going?" he asked. "This is a different hotel than usual. I have yet to discovered what's nearby."
"Oh, well, I think America wanted to make a good impression," Canada explained, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked up and down the street. Finally, he reached out and tugged at Prussia's shirt sleeve, pulling him along the sidewalk. "And, well," he added, giving Prussia an amused look, "there's a McDonald's one block away. America's a bit . . . addicted, I think."
Prussia snorted and dug a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, shielding his sensitive eyes from the bright light reflecting off the neo-classical buildings that lined 7th street. "Americans," he muttered dismissively.
"So," Canada asked a few minutes later, "what's your new plan?" He almost hated to ask. You never knew what you were going to get with Prussia. It could be genius or the most bizarre thing you'd ever heard.
With a smirk, Prussia began. "Clearly the American government didn't just meekly accept a random individual's claim to be the personification of their country. They must have found proof. They would not blindly accept such an outrageous claim. What we must do, is call the woman from the State Department and make her hand over the evidence!"
"That's . . . that could actually work," Canada realized. Absently guiding Prussia to cross the street, he turned the idea over in his head. While he didn't think any human would have tried to claim to be the personification of the United States of America, it made sense that the government would want to try and find some kind of corroborating evidence. He wasn't entirely certain what that proof could be, but surely they had found something by now?
"I'll call Ms. Williams after we've ordered," he said thoughtfully as they passed a towering sports stadium. "She's the only one in the State Department who might be willing to give us whatever evidence they may have found."
"You're fortunate I'm here to counsel you." Prussia preened, clearly delighted to see that Canada was taking his suggestions seriously. "I don't help everyone, you know," he added.
"I'm very grateful," Canada responded, giving Prussia a warm smile. He stopped outside a green storefront with a black awning. The name "Zenga" was written on the fabric covering in bright letters. "Now, how does Afro-Latin cuisine sound?"