A/N: Oh god what have I done
"Are you serious?" America asked, looking at his scarf-clad boyfriend as though he were mad. Or drunk. Maybe both. You can never tell with those Commies.
"Yeah," Russia said, leaning in surreptitiously. America found himself too, leaning in and he was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu...the gay chicken at the last football party was all too fresh in his mind.
"I heard it last night. This...odd humming noise. Like...a motor. It...," he began to whisper, presumably so none of his younger siblings in the next room could hear. Or he might just like to whisper...you can never tell with those Commies.
"...it seemed to be coming from..." his voice dropped an octave, and America had to strain his ears, and face, to hear it.
"...Belarus' room."
...
"Is that it?" America asked, leaning back. Russia looked offended.
"What do you mean 'is that it?' It's a mystery! That's what we do, solve mysteries!"
"...You make us sound like Scooby Doo..." America whispered.
"What?" Russia blinked. America shook his head.
"Never mind, just a show about a dog,"
"A show? Dog?" If it were possible, Russia became even more confused.
"Yeah, they solved mysteries with a talking dog," America attempted to explain. Russia blinked...again.
"What's this about a dog?" a voice asked them. They looked up to see Ukraine, book in hand, gazing quizzically at them.
"It doesn't matter," America sighed.
"What does matter..." Russia used this moment to interrupt "Is the mysterious humming noise coming from Belarus' room."
Ukraine raised an eyebrow at America as though to say 'are you serious'. Ukraine raised her eyebrows very frequently. America wondered if one day the eyebrows would rise, like the sun in the east , but never come down, trapped forever in the sky that was her hair.
"America, are you listening?" Ukraine asked.
No Ukraine, I was too busy fantasizing about your eyebrows...
"Yes," he said sheepishly. Ukraine looked suspiciously at the boy that Russia seemed to have taken an odd fascination to.
"Well, I was saying that you know as well as I do that Russia will never stop talking unless we go 'discover'" she bunny quoted the word "what is making this ridiculous humming noise,"
"In Belarus' room," Russia piped up.
"In Belarus' room," Ukraine repeated, her scepticism present her tone. America smirked inwardly.
Finally. An adventure only five seconds from his whereabouts! He'd had enough of trekking across the country like last time. Who cared about money anyway, his shoes got dirty! Here was an adventure that they could solve and be home in time for deal or no deal. Oh Noel...why couldn't the Ultimate Hero Burger be in one of THOSE boxes. Caves are cold and...
"America!"
"I'm listening, yes, of course I am...to my inner thought that is… Hehe…"
"...You realise we can still hear you...right?"
"...They can hear me? Noel? Are you there?"
Ukraine and Russia shared a look. Yes, he was the self-proclaimed hero, but that didn't mean he was sane. Or clever. Or anything really.
"Team Russia America and Ukraine go go go!" they put their hands together forming a triangle of love and power the punched the air, glitter falling around them, framing their beautiful faces in...glitter.
"Hey guys! It's me, the author!" said the author, appearing from behind the sofa. "Remember when I came on that adventure with you guys?"
"...Do we know you?" Russia asked, absent mindly dancing.
"Yeah! Come on you guys, I was there at the Telus World of Science with the death and the dying and the blood and the oh god the nightmares...I have them every night...but I get through them knowing I have friends like you," the author looked at the Trio of Nations with love and affection.
"Uh...yeah. We're gonna play a game now. It's called who can hide under the sofa for the longest!"
"I can! I can!" the author said, raising a hand. America clapped her on the shoulder.
"That's my girl. One day you'll be a heroine," America said, wiping a tear from his eye. The author glowed with pride and the three floated out the room.
"That's her sorted," he said as they walked through the great corridor into the great hall and past the great stairs, into the great hallway where Belarus' room was located.
"Shhhhhh," Russia whispered (there he goes again with that whispering...America began to wonder whether The Hamster...seemingly innocent, had beaten the boy had he raised his voice above 20 decibels...bless his Commie soul).
"I hear it," he continued quietly. America's ears twitched like a cat's.
"I hear it too!" America exclaimed, before hugging his boyfriend "Oh Russia...you were right, for once you were right!"
"Would you guys please be quiet?" Ukraine stage whispered. Indeed the sound was gathering momentum, getting louder...and closer. A strange humming noise, never heard before in the realm of Midgård.
They gathered close as...the horrible sight, a sight that should never be seen by human eyes, or avian, a sight which scarred America for the rest of his life. Every night he awoke to the image of...
Belarus riding a segway.
"Oh my GOOOOOODDDD," America cried, rubbing his eyes to stem the bleeding. The female nation was gliding across the floor on...what could only be described as...a segway. Because...er...it was a segway. Belarus seemed to be channelling the spirit of the mall cop as she drifted past effortlessly at 14 mph.
"Be…Belarus!" Ukraine shrieked, pointing. Her boobs became bouncier (yes...it was possible) and America watched in amazement as the eyebrows practically began to hibernate.
"Aye, it is me. Belarus," she said, leaping off the machine which continued to move, peering over her darkened shades.
"Belarus...what? What are you doing? And why are you talking like a pirate?" America asked.
"Argh, well ya see my boy, I took the theory test on Wednesday, passed the practical on Thursday and bought this bad boy yesterday," Belarus said, stroking the machine tenderly.
"But Belarus..." Ukraine asked, about to continue. Belarus sighed.
"Sigh. You're going to ask how it's working, a machine, in Isengard, when it shouldn't and you're about to quote something from Cinderella,"
"...Actually I was going to say...Segways are illegal in Canada," she said sadly.
Belarus gasped. "What? Are you saying I'm" her eyes narrowed "breaking the law,"
"Well, Canadian law but..." Hermione began.
"I am a felon!" Belarus cried, grasping her bosom and howling in pain.
"That's never stopped you before," Russia pointed out. Belarus combed her hair with her fingers.
"Aye, that be true. But only Russian laws mind you, not the law set by the Queen and the Commonwealth, god bless her!" she began to sing the national anthem in falsetto, oblivious to Russia's 'They have a Queen?' comments.
"Belarus...you sounded like Mika!" Ukraine gasped.
"The author's been mighty suspicious lately," Russia mused whilst idly fondling America's face (much to his disdain).
"Yes, I had noticed," America replied, swiping the offending hand from his perfect porcelain skin. Of course he was perfect; he was the hero. Everything was perfect, even his toenails. They grew in the shape of burgers.
"Speaking of which, who is the author?" he asked, pausing to think.
"We told her to hide behind a sofa about a month ago, she stayed there for two weeks. You stood on her twice," Russia interjected. America nodded wisely.
"Aaaah yes. The author, nice girl, lacking in feminism and the ability to stay even a little bit sane like certain people...not really my type,"
A busty shadow fell across them like the shadow of Bear Grylls.
"What are you boys talking about?" Ukraine asked.
"The author," they replied in unison. She nodded.
"Ahh yes, I have noticed her scuttling off to her room a lot. She spends most her time alone there, murmuring to herself," she pondered. America raised a delicate hero brow.
"You don't live in her house, Ukraine, how would you know?" he asked, imagining a complicated set up involving camera. What if they were strategically placed to watch him, America, the Hero, sitting in his living room...LIVING!
"I know because I know everything about everyone and every place...I even know what colour underwear you're wearing," she looked pointedly at Russia "you're wearing Pikachu underwear, which clashes horribly with your hair, and America," she stared hard at America, channelling her underwear-guessing-abilities "If I'm correct, you're not wearing any."
"I cannot be contained by cotton," America exclaimed, his flag appearing behind him as though by magic, "how else will I truly LIVE!?"
Russia cleared his throat.
"Anyway, back to problem in hand, the author," he said, his eyes shifting awkwardly to his apparently semi naked boyfriend. At that very moment, in a coincidence that could only occur in a novel or film, or fanfiction for that matter, the author walked in, concealing a rather large object beneath her clothes.
"Whatcha got there author?" Russia asked casually, gliding over. The author appeared nervous.
"Oh, hi Russia," she said, chewing her lip slightly. "I thought you guys weren't talking to me after the whole sofa thing and the Telus World of Science and the death and the blood and oh god why did I mention this it's happening again in my mind,"
"Right," America said loudly over the author's incessant babbling. "What's under your clothes?" he asked. The author stopped muttering and twitched.
"Nothing," she said. Another twitch.
"She's twitching!" Russa whispered loudly so that everyone and everything on this Earth could hear. Even the deaf. And dead.
America lifted the back of the author's shirt to reveal...
"A plant?" Ukraine asked. The author nodded nervously.
"It's not any plant, it's the Audry 2 plant, that I found in the forests of Transylvania, in a coffin at midnight," The author said, twitching.
"Meh," America shrugged, "seems legit," and with that the trio left the author and the plant to their own devices.
The author hurried down the winding road to the Telus World of Science stopping only when the flashbacks became too intense to handle. She stroked the plant.
"Its okay baby, we're not in that terrible place anymore. Here you're free to photosynthesise as much as you like, and I'm free to wear cardigans as much as I like and no one can stop me!" she said passionately. The plant began to coo, its leaves nuzzling her hand.
"I know you want blood, but I haven't got any fingers left!" she said, holding up a stump. How no one noticed she was fingerless, especially as she was an author and therefore required to type, she wasn't sure. But then again no one ever paid her any attention.
The plant hummed sadly.
"I know you're hungry, but blood is not a sustainable diet!" The author cried. She loved the plant dearly, it had treated her better then any human had done, alive or dead, and yet she was trapped in an abusive relationship with this piece of vegetation that insisted on draining her of her vital fluids...blood that was.
The plant started to whine. It reminded her of the screams of the Telus World of Science...no, she could not think of that, she must satisfy the plant, no matter the cost.
"Are you really that hungry?" she whispered. The plant nodded. "I suppose...there are a few people round here that no one would miss. Prussia would certainly fulfil your voracious appetite," she murmured. The plant began to hiss, almost as thought it were about to...
"Are you going to speak?" The author asked, her eyes widening in awe.
"Yesssssh," The plant said quietly.
"How are you speaking? You have no tongue!" The author wondered.
"Tongues are for the weak, who lie behind sofas and are trod on," the plant flicked its vines in an aggressive manner. The author felt intimidated by this display of dominance, yet at the same time slightly turned on.
"Why are you being so harsh? I've looked after you Audrey, I've given you sunshine, I've given you rain, you've given me nothing but heart ache and pain!" she sang.
"Shut yo mouth," the plant hissed, "fetch me my precious Prussian plant pleaser," it said, using repetitive alliteration to confuse and frighten the author...it worked.
"So many 'p's!" she shrieked.
"Shut up fool, and get to work, or you know what'll happen," the plant seemed to smirk.
"No...no...not the hair!" the author paled, eyes wide with horror. The plant's leaves crawled through the strands of that...special place had felt odd, almost pleasant the first time, but after that the strange punishment had clawed at the edges of her sanity, almost as much as the Telus World of Science!
"I will, I will!" she said bowing humbly and plotting the murders of our very own Prussia.
"Hey!" Russia said, sitting upright in his chair suddenly the day after the unusual conversation about and with the author.
"What?" Ukraine said, knowing whatever it was would never be as clever as anything she would say. Ever.
"I remember something from the other day actually...I swear I heard the author shouting in her sleep...something about her hair?" Russia said dramatically.
Ukraine scoffed. "Well it must be a nightmare Russia and frankly, I don't see how on Earth it could be related to a plant,"
The world watched as Russia's self esteem lowered even more into the depths of his scarf.
"Well if she had a nightmare...which I doubt. I mean, I have nightmares, I see Canada dying and all that. Her hair that is, it's gone this horrible bronze shade. His eyes are pretty funny too, all gold and...weird. Well what I'm saying is, if I have nightmares then authors can't be as heroic as mine," America nodded, in a smug heroic sort of way. Applause came from no where, and a tear rolled gently down his cheek. He wiped it in slow motion. It fell to the ground and a kitten was born.
The door to the dormitory opened and a twitchy author walked in.
"Who's that?" Russia asked, squinting. "No it's not Ed Sheeran...kind of like Wellington Boot...Welly Shortbottom?"
"That's the author, the girl we met only last week who we were discussing yesterday!" Ukraine hissed.
"Oh yeaaaaah," Russia said, immediately losing interest.
"How ya doin' author, my girl," America asked, sidling up "and what have you got in that strangely human shaped body bag?" he asked.
"Nothing." The author twitched "Not dead bodies, oh no no, definitely not. Killing people, that is my least favourite thing to do," she twitched again, trying to head towards the door.
"I don't think so, not till we know what's in those bags," Ukraine said striding over.
"Laundry. Two eleven stone and five pound bags of laundry. I had...red on them. Yes. Lots of red on my clothes," she said. America considered this perfectly plausible explanation.
"Hmm...seems pretty legit to me guys," he said gesturing to Russia and Ukraine. "You may proceed, unknown person."
The trio watched as the author heaved the heavy laundry load up the stairs.
"That's my girl," America said, saluting his exit.
"America for god's sake put some underwear on!"
The end.
A/N: No, I don't have a plant fetish, and no, I don't like Prussia. Deal with it, my fellow cotton fluffs.