Finally, the long-awaited concert of Iggy, the rock-star and absolutely invincible English gentleman! *face radiating with anticipation and bouncing on her chair while singing-along with said song*
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them… though I'd love to listen to Iggy's, Russia's, France's, Japan's and Germany's singing all day long… *sighs* Oh, and I absolutely don't own any of the songs.

5- About two weeks later, London

It was surprisingly dry for an English autumn, although the sky was cowered in thick, dark-grey clouds, adding to the darkness that gradually grew with the sun's setting. Hungary sat down on a bench in a park (she couldn't quite remember the name), opposing the inner voice that told her to move on and not stop. She needed to sit down and clear her thoughts, plus checking the map she brought along would be a good idea as well.
If she was ever wanting of a mental "storage-cleaning" in her life, it was now. Since the Meeting and her realization at home, she didn't dare to touch the topic of England and her feelings- or that of France and his revenge, though she considered that one (stupid as it might seem) to be of little importance now. Not to mention that all she could do about that issue was enduring and taking the fall, as much as she hated to admit it.
The problem of England, however, was different. Should she take the risk and try to find out if her feelings were unrequited? Or would it be better to put her efforts into maintaining a façade, as if not a single thing would've changed in the first place, hoping for the feeling to fade?
Her chances at the last one were slim, she was forced to admit. She was hardly as good an actor as Austria, Japan, England or France (that she had to give to that pervert: he was an expert at faking being hurt and concealing actual injuries), she was too easy to see through. Some said it was because she thought too much for her own good. Oh, she remembered hearing this sentence at least four times, always from someone else and always infuriating her: First from Austria with an unreadable expression, then from Turkey with a wide grin or a roll of his eyes, from Germany with a nearly pitying look and even from Russia, accompanied by that small but threatening smile of his that sent shivers down anyone's spine (save Belarus and America).
She was stuck with the first one, as it seemed- but she had no idea as to how to do it without making a total idiot out of herself. Of course she couldn't just ask flat out… she'd stumble on the words, get as red as a tomato, and couldn't possibly meet his green eyes. E-mail or texting didn't help, either- neither did the fact that she didn't dare to ask anyone for advice.

She sighed as she got up to prevent going numb. This lead nowhere… and it was about time she set out to the club Arthur's band was performing in. Occasionally checking the map for directions, it took Elizaveta about 20 minutes to reach her destination- and high time she did, too: there were already a couple of people, most (if not all) of whom were waiting for the same band as her, at least by the bits of dialogues she managed to hear. Suddenly feeling nervous, she looked around to choose a place to stand at and wait for the concert to begin. It was an oblong, ground-storey room with a stage (with the height of about 60 cm's) and a bar on the two shorter sides, an old, dark brown wooden floor but relatively new (about 5 years old at most) painting on the walls. By the size of it, she reckoned it was usually occupied by tables, chairs, booths (and no stage) by day, but those were all absent right now, leaving plenty of space for audience.

Hungary didn't know how long she had been waiting- she didn't check her cell phone, and her sense of time had been numbed with the mixed anticipation and fear that knit her stomach into a tight knot in one moment to release butterflies in it in the next. She felt highly tempted to go and buy herself a drink, but she be damned if she left her spot in front of the stage when so many people were coming! No, she won't move from that spot until it was all over, thank you very much. Practically the whole room was filled now with anxious people mostly from 15 to 25, all waiting for the owners of the drums, guitars and keyboards- who at long last arrived from the rear of the stage. She immediately saw England, in the same attire he wore when they bet before the Meeting, his blonde hair a bit messier then usually. He was waving, grinning with a slight blush on his cheeks and looked like he was truly at home, enjoying the applause they received. They eyes met, but he only gave her a small smile and a lifted eyebrow to show he noticed her- there wasn't time for anything else then. Stepping to his microphone and grabbing his guitar (a black-and-white Fender Stratocaster), he officially greeted the audience.
'Hello, everyone! Thanks a lot for coming! I could keep you all up with a boring speech about my day or something, but it would only waste the time, so… let's begin with My Interpretation by Mika!' He looked at the other members of the band as his idea of quick beginning was cheered, gave a nod then began to play.

You talk about life, you talk about death
And everything in between,
Like it's nothing and the words are easy.
You talk about me and you talk about you
And everything I do,
Like it's something that needs repeating.
I don't need an alibi,
Or for you to realize:
The things we left unsaid
are only taking space up in our head.
Make it my fault, win the game,
Point the finger, place the blame-
It does me up and down.
It doesn't matter now…

Cos' I don't care
If I ever talk to you again!
This is not about emotion!
I don't need a reason not to care
What you say or what happens in the end!
This is MY interpretation-
And it don't… don't make sense…

'Wow…' she could only mutter, although even she herself didn't manage to hear it. Seeing him in dressed up the rocker style was one thing, and hearing him sing was fully another. His soft baritone really did made her regret that she secretly promised herself not to squeal and behave like a teenage fan-girl during the performance- she had to stick with jumping up and down and singing along with the chorus, concealing the fact that her heart was beating so hardly it made her worry about her ribs, and that her stomach chose to stick to butterflies. England was simply radiating with energy, with a calmness and careful concentration on his face which rivaled Austria's expression by the piano. Time flew by with a breakneck speed- in one moment, he played the final accords of the first song, then he was halfway through Boulevard of Broken Dreams, finished American Idiot (she had to grin at that one, yet she felt a certain pang around her heart at this remainder of her slim chances), began Wake Me Up When September Ends, then a couple more, and it was already time to say goodbye and pack their things. She left the room along with everyone else before searching for the assigned stage-door he told her to wait at. Soon enough, Arthur Kirkland came, with the guitar on his back- and Hungary realized it was much harder to confront him than she expected to.
'Great performance back there.' She managed to say.
'Thanks.' He smiled. 'I'm… I'm glad you came.' he quickly cleared his throat. 'So… where are you spending the night? I… I mean, where's the motel?' he rephrased his words, seemingly a bit awkward to say the least. She didn't understand why he did, but his blush made him almost too cute to endure. They were walking mainly in silence, until one of them slipped a remark that brought them to other nation's love life and they began to guess who were seeing each other.

'Well… Germany and Italy is a sure couple, and so is Spain and Romano.' She said.
'Which makes me wonder: how can the neat-and-rule-freak put up with Italy's mess? I once read his diary, but that was back in WWII' he frowned, deep in thought. Hungary moaned and buried her face in one hand.
'Oh no… Gilbert is sure contagious…'
'What do you mean?'
Hungary rolled her eyes.
'Have you ever been to Gilbert's? He has a whole frigging room full of diaries; he's kept them ever since his foundation, never once missing a day- at least so he claims.'
'You've got to be kidding me…' England's expression was that of mixed unbelieving and amusement.
'Nope. I even had a chance to take a peek into one of them. It's really boring, he keeps stating how "awesome" he is and how his "old Fritz" would be proud of him.'
'That's just SO like him…' he moaned. 'Germany did use it better, though; he reported about the state of the war, saying how he has to save Italy all the time and how it used up most of his strength, but he figured it was sort of all right, since Italy was his only friend- he never knew what Japan thought.'
'He… kind of had a point.' She said with an imaginational sweat-drop at her head. 'As reliable and trustworthy Japan is, he does tend to keep the same face and tone. About Germany's: that might be the one. Feliciano is impulsive, dumb and clumsy, but his intentions are the best. He had gotten to like Germany during WWI, if I remember right… Germany held him captive… or rather, as a guest.' she added with a slight chuckle, earning a snicker and a nod from England.
'So… who do you think Japan is with, then?'
Hungary was deep in thought and was about to begin to answer, when they heard a siren from behind them- and soon enough, a police car darted to the direction of her motel. They exchanged a puzzled look before running at get there as quickly as they could. She had a very bad feeling about this whole affair…

When they turned into the street they were heading to, they immediately saw that said building had been closed off. Hungary let out a whimper: all of the possessions she brought along were inside! How was she to get them, not to mention another room to sleep at?
They addressed one of the policemen.
'What happened, constable?'
'Well, we're not too certain, but… someone tried to force his way in one of the guest's rooms. He had been stopped at the reception, of course, and knocked the receptionist out, but vanished. Nothing seems to miss so far, so no worries.'
'The lady here lives in this motel- do you know if she could pack her things and check out?'
'Well… judging by the fact that she just arrived with you and the culprit had been prevented from getting to the rooms, I don't see anything against it as long as she gives her data so we can scratch her from the list.'
'Thanks.' England nodded, grabbing a perplexed Hungary by the wrist and dragged her into the building.
'W-wait, what was that for?'
'I hardly think you'd like to spend the night under these circumstances… 'He hissed through gritted teeth.
'But I wanted to ask if they knew whose room the culprit wanted to break into! He must've asked the receptionist about the room number…'
'You're right, but we can do that afterwards.'
Hungary came to a sudden halt, facing a door, then searched for her room keys in her handbag and opened it. The inside of the room had nothing out of the ordinary: the untouched bed, the unpacked suitcase, the furniture… She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and began to walk out to where England waited for her.
A couple of minutes later, they were back on the street, and much to her dismay, it even began to rain so they had to open an umbrella. The situation was too serious and troubling to bother with asking who the perpetrator was looking for. It seemed to Elizaveta s if bad luck was about to get her: she had a great time with the concert and a normal chat with England, and now, she didn't have anywhere to go. Going home by plane was out of the question, and like hell was she about to get on a train across the Chunnel! She wasn't stupid- she didn't want to see Paris until the meeting, not with France infuriated… wait… could it be…
She shook her head. No, this was hardly Francis's style; he was more subtle and cruel about his revenges, and he would've waited longer, expecting her to forget about his threat and to let her guard down.

'This way.' England said suddenly. Hungary came to a halt, giving him a questioning look, to which he added. 'W-well… you can't possibly get a room at this hour, and you can't go home until at least the morning, either. So… If you want to… you can sleep at my place tonight.'
'R-really? Thanks!' she said, and before she could realize it, she lunged forward and hugged him. England couldn't even get over his shock and surprise, let alone returning the embrace when Elizaveta withdrew with her head low, allowing her long hair to hide her redder than ever face.
'S-sorry…' she muttered, barely audible. He murmured something along the lines that there was no need to apologize, and they went on towards his house in an awkward silence. She mentally cursed herself to hell and back again for being so stupid and oblivious and impulsive and… and partly for wanting to repeat the whole thing, just longer- something she knew all too well to be impossible, so she had to settle for replaying it all over at least a million times and hoping that she couldn't blush any more.

It was only as they arrived in the already pouring rain that she remembered one thing: she had been to London a couple of times, but never once saw the inside of Arthur Kirkland's house. It was a spacious building in Victorian or Edwardian style (she couldn't tell for sure) with three floors, painted in a creamy hue, surrounded by neat lawn, rose bushes and a couple of willow trees; now, at night, nothing else really met her eye.
Once inside, England gave a quick explanation about the bathrooms, kitchen and the guestrooms she could pick from. Hungary felt the tiredness getting hold of her, so she went into one of the rooms and began to unpack- then gave a shrill scream.
'What the… do you know you nearly gave me a heart attack?!' Arthur Kirkland said, panting as he rushed in. Her face was bleached whiter than a parchment, as she showed him the reason of the turmoil- a single, radiant yellow petal of a flower. He frowned.
'Am I supposed to see something on it?'
'Do you recognize what kind of flower this is?' she asked her voice deadly serious.
'Why of course, it's a su… no… you don't'
'Oh yes I do. Ivan managed to find out where I was and thought he'd pay me a visit, as it seems.' She said gravely.
'Why would he do that? It's not like you're still a satellite of his…'
'I'm not, but he'd, of course, prefer it otherwise.' she began to calm down, as much as she could with a tall Russian as strong as a bear in her wake. She didn't need a reminder of his strength: she had more than enough experience with it and knowing he could finish her off in... let's say… a couple of hours or if he put his best into it, even a single blow, did make her 'slightly' nervous back in the Cold War.
'That's ridiculous, I go and have a talk with him… where's my cell?' Arthur patted his pockets from the outside before she could begin to talk him out of this. She flipped her own phone open.
'Don't bother, I'll call you and we'll find it by the ringtone.'
'No, there's no need to…' he sputtered, but Elizaveta already pressed the calling button, not noticing the blush the idea gave him before. She had to wonder, though, why he was being so nervous. Was something about the ringtone? Did he find it humiliating?
From somewhere in the not-far vicinity, a tune began to play. She followed its direction, with England closely behind. It seemed familiar to her… then came the singing.

You hit my heart, and we'll never be words apart

She stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped, blushing like a madman. No way… This… this just couldn't be… She was afraid to take a side-glance at the man and ask him, but she knew he stood still as a statue, hands curled into a fist.

Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star.
Baby, cos' in the dark, you can she shiny cars,
And that's when you'll need me there:
With you I'll always share…
Because

He seemingly decided it was time to shut the god damn cell up at last, for he darted out, looking for it everywhere. Hungary remained rooted to the spot, not knowing if she should stop of help him.

When the sun shines we'll shine together-
Told you I'll be here forever,
Said I'll always be your friend:
Took an oath, I'mma stick it out till the end.
Now that it's raining more than ever
I know that we still have each other.
You can stand under my umbrella,
You can stand under my umbrella
Ela, Ela, eh, eh, eh, under my umbrella…

England snatched the phone from the tea-table in the sitting room, slightly panting and head bent low. She stopped about two or three steps away from him, not quite knowing what to say.
'En… Arthur…' she took a deep breath, relieved yet a bit nervous by the way he suddenly looked up when he heard his human name. 'H-how long…'
'I… I think… Nineteenth century? You weren't supposed to find out.' he added in a sad tone.
'Why?'
'You were married back then, for Christ's sake!' he blurted out.
'And I've been divorced for over eighty years!' she shot back.
'You know just as well as I do that it would've been impossible, with Germany and then Russia around. And by the time the Cold War was over, I've been used to it.' He seemed to calm down a bit; at least he spoke in his usual, composed manner. The look in his eyes, however, was too painful to endure. She stepped forward, embracing him in hope that he would understand she felt the same. He stiffened at first then relaxed, returning the hug.

'I thought you were after America…' she muttered.
'Only because I never once went to his birthday parties? I don't exactly need yet another reminder of that day, although I did believe I was in love with him... But I thought you saw the way he behaved around Russia.'
Hungary looked up with wide eyes. She couldn't help bursting out laughing. This one was new, even to her- she's had other things to care about since being a UN and NATO-member, and during Cold War, the only one allowed to talk to the west were practically Russia and China.
'N-no way… you… you've got to be kidding me… the "commie bastard" and the "imperialist pig"?!
'N-no, I'm not! I was just as surprised as you are, but I'm not sure if it began during WWII or even earlier.'
'When I tell this tale in the club…' she shook her head, still grinning.
'They either won't believe a word or will believe all the more eagerly because it's so absurd.' he said with a soft chuckle, but he went back to serious quickly. 'Well… what now?'
She broke the embrace and sat down on the sofa. In a slightly different situation, this sentence of his would've had a different effect on her (damn her and her imagination…), but this was not the case.
'I don't know, I really don't. The only thing I know for sure is that you won't be calling Russia. I'll try and talk sense into that frozen and thick head of his when I go home. And there's the next meeting, too… with France, you can never know what he'll do. '
'Why won't you let me call him?'
Hungary shot him a disbelieving look.
'He's about twice your size! You don't want to find out what his blows feel like, let me assure you.'
'You've got a point, but…'
'I hardly think you could talk to him effectively.'
'And why does it make you capable of it?' he shot back, seemingly a trifle offended. Hungary sighed; it's not going to be simple.
'Try to look at it through his eyes. He's sort of jealous, and you are the last one he wants to talk to right now. On the other hand, if I call him and talk to him…'
'There's no arguing with Russia, he doesn't take a negative answer.' England shook his head. 'I don't know about his fist, but I know that much, especially after Teheran, Yalta and Potsdam… although I had a feeling he would be like this, judging by the world wars.'
Hungary nodded. She really didn't felt like elaborating in this topic, and she guessed neither did England (with the Blitz and all), so she stood up, saying: 'I think it's better if we go and rest. The best ideas come during sleep, they say…'
They agreed on this, wished each other a good night and retired to their rooms.

AN

Wow. A double feature! xd Yes, it's twice the usual length, and I know the ending is kind of sudden, but… I took an oath I'll include the cell-phone ringtone scene, and I had to make her stay at Iggy's. Fortunately I remembered I didn't quite use the RussHun bit yet, so it came in handy :D Chekhov, I guess, wrote or said that if you include a rifle hanging on the wall in the scenery at the beginning, that rifle has to be used later.

The ringtone, in case you didn't recognize it, is "Umbrella". Out of the many versions, I picked the Vanilla sky cover, because of the intro and because I think it's style fits Iggy the best.

When I tell this tale in the club is a quote from a spy-novel called "It doesn't always have to be caviar" by Johannes Mario Simmel. It's about a German who used to be a banker in London city, but gets involved in the spy world: he works for and against the French, the Germans, the English, the Americans and the Russians- and cooks delicious meals in the meantime. It takes place during WWII and the Cold War.

Yes, Russia went into the motel, found out the room number, hit the receptionist over the head with his faucet pipe, took the extra key (he didn't leave a fingerprint because of his gloves), opened the room and put a sunflower petal into Hun-chan's suitcase as a reminder, then vanished into thin air xd