Authors' Notes;

Weapon Frayer; Who wants to play a game? Well, look below!

DFTBA!

Laurel Silver; This is the chapter where we play "Guess Laurel's OTP"

I actually struggled a bit with this one, because I had to think up the songs myself. It's a lot harder than it sounds.

[She is Beautiful, Andrew W.K.]

It had been 1975 when Ivan first met Madeline. She was a waitress in a coffee shop in Montreal, working the graveyard shift, serving drinks and cakes with a soft, beautiful smile. She never noticed how fond of her the elder men had been; having had a sheltered life with protective parents and siblings, she simply didn't know any better.

She was, and still is, several years younger than Ivan, despite their birth years being only three years apart. But constantly jumping through time will make one older than they should be.

Ivan knows he's a wanted man, but back then he didn't have the notorious Detective Jones on his tail, so he could be afford to be a little sloppy when covering up his mistakes. Any mistake he made, any time he was caught for his crimes, he would simply turn back the clock and fix the mistake, be it killing a witness or wiping fingerprints away. Or trying a better pick up line on a beautiful Canadian.

For several hours now, he's sat in the corner booth, ordering and re-drinking the same coffee with a shot of maple syrup, as first recommended by Madeline when they first met several months ago. She comes over, from the man with the scarf and the scar on his forehead, and Ivan orders his coffee, without adding 'and dinner with you on Saturday' to the end, and Madeline smiles, saying "My favourite," and Ivan doesn't say 'I know' because that creeps her out. She walks away, and is back two minutes later with the coffee and a "Hope you enjoy it!" He's often then tried a line, and her reactions have ranged from bored to embarrassed to disgusted, but never reaches the more positive side of the scale. And then Ivan takes out his pocket watch, turns back time, and tries again. It's sad, he knows. But he's got nothing to lose.

Madeline, as she has every time, delivers the freshly cut slice of torte to the man with the scar on his forehead, goes to ask the Cuban to roll up his cigars outside, delivers an iced drink and some brownies to a lumberjack, and talks to a couple who seem to be struggling with understanding the menu half in French. For half past two in the morning, the place is busy.

This is the longest Ivan has been here in one sitting. It's all coming back; all the failed attempts to woo the beautiful young woman. He's never had anything to lose, since he can always go back in time and get it again, but he keeps throwing it away to talk to her, then going back and talking to her again. It's sad, and a whole new level of stalking, but he simply can't let it go. He's drawn to her, and he feels like a disgusting old pervert for being so attracted to her.

[Boulevard Saint Laurent, Coeur de Pirate]

Time is crawling it's way forwards, reaching quarter to three. The street is quiet, and late. Madeline glides about the coffee shop, twittering to the lumberjack in French, scolding the Cuban for rolling up another cigar inside, the man with the scar laughs at the scene. Madeline flushes a little red as the Cuban ignores her and the scarred man continues to laugh.

The room seems to flicker around them, and Madeline is suddenly twittering with the lumberjack again in French. The Cuban takes out his tobacco and paper, beginning to a cigar.

Shocked, Ivan dives a hand into his pocket. His watch is still there, and, looking it's intricately patterned face over, it is still set on half past two, waiting for Ivan to press the stopper at the top to travel back again.

"Sir, if you continue to disrespect the rules of the establishment, I will have to call for security," Madeline's voice is firm, but still says soft and sweet.

"I'm only rolling a cigar!" the Cuban snaps, "I'll smoke the fucker outside!"

"Please don't use that sort of language at me. And I have to insist you roll it outside."

"The wind sends the baccy everywhere! I'm not going to make a mess!"

"Rules are rules, sir."

Ivan frowns as the Cuban begrudgingly gathers up his tobacco and papers, heading outside, the bell tinkling as he goes. Had he just imagined the scene, the Cuban's rude ignorance, the scarred man's laughter?

Curious, he purposely knocks the coffee mug off the table, swearing loudly as it smashes against the tile. He grabs a napkin, mopping the hot liquid up, swearing even more as it soaks through the flimsy napkin and burns his fingers. And under his swearing, the deep, condensing chuckle of the scarred man sounds, exactly as Ivan remembers it.

Madeline helps him mop the last of it up with a cloth, skittering off to get him a refill. Watching her, Ivan realises that she's careful to skirt wide around the scarred man, who turns as she passes to watch her go. Perhaps she knows better than Ivan thought.

[Song of the Restless Youth, Russian folk song]

When she gets back out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, she frowns. She checks the clock, frown deepening, before she walks the uneasy distance across the shop to deliver the drink.

"What's wrong?" Ivan asks her.

"Just surprised you didn't take your pocket watch out after that incident," she says casually, "You did every other time you messed up."

"What?" Ivan asks, slack jawed.

"Your pocket watch. It's how you travel back in time," Madeline says calmly, rolling up her sleeve to reveal a watch, the face, golden and delicate, so similar to Ivan's pocket watch.

"You can time travel too?"

"Yes. I don't do it very often, though. I don't really know what I'm doing, and I don't want to cause some sort of paradox or worm hole and bring on the end of the world. I don't think my brother would ever forgive me if that happened."

"I know how to fix those," Ivan says calmly, "General Winter gave me my watch, and taught me everything about it."

"I don't know any General Winter. I found mine in my Dad's house, and he didn't recognise it, so I took it. I found out about the time travelling by accident."

Ivan nods in awkward understanding. "So, everything I've said to you…"

"I have remembered, every time," Madeline admits with a small laugh, "You're determined, aren't you?"

"I can't help it. I think it was the watches."

"How much have you actually used your watch?" Madeline asks with a small frown of simple concern, "How old are you?"

"I was born in 1952, or twenty three years ago. However, I have lived for forty seven years."

"Why would you need to travel that much?!" Madeline shrieks.

"Otherwise, I would be in prison," Ivan says bluntly, "I flatly refuse to pay my taxes. And there's a few cases of theft and murder and a few other things."

"What the fuck!" the scarred man, apparently Dutch judging by his accent, yells.

"We probably shouldn't have been talking about that in public." Madeline giggles a little as she speaks, and Ivan's heart, called over the uneasy distance of time, flutters.

"My watch is set to half past two. We can go back, I will come in ask for a coffee with a maple shot and dinner on Saturday. Will you say yes?"

"Dinner with a murderer twice my age?"

"I was born only three years before you."

Madeline purses her lips. "Alright. But no time jumping during dinner, got it?"

"Understood."

And Ivan winds his pocket watch back, and this time, glory has found him and he goes straight on.

End Notes;

Weapon Frayer; I has agree with below statement.

No, seriously, I support RusCan. Just not the smutty type (if you're talking in yaoi terms...)

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to R&R, follow and favorite, and DFTBA!

Laurel Silver; RusCan needs more love. The two biggest, northernmost nations, and nobody ships them?! C'mon guys, you can have anything from fluffly keep-warm-in-the-cold cuddles to Russia helping snapped!Canada get 'noticed' to Canada flaunting his French side on the largest nation.

The lumberjack is 2p!Canada, and yes the brownies are probably actually pot brownies
The Dutchman with the scarf and the scar on his forehead is Nederlands, obviously
The Cuban with the cigars is Cuba, obviously
The couple who don't understand French is any pairing you ship in which neither nation speaks French. I originally had Turkey/Ukraine in mind.

We own nothing!