Time by Eve-the-Charlotte

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers and, according to my friends, that actually might be a good thing.

Pairings in this Story: Various

Pairings in this Chapter: Latvia/Hungary, Poland/Lithuania, and Sweden/Finland.

Prompt: Time

I haven't updated this in a bit, but I'm back with another chapter! Yay!

&You'reBornOfAJackal&

Decade

Bent down on one knee, Raivis stuttered out, "M-m-marry m-me, M-miss Hédéváry." Hungary noted that it was not a question; the voice called out a statement, an order, a command. No matter how stuttered out it was, a statement was a statement, an order was an order, and a command was a command. Erzsébet considered her next moves carefully. What might happen to her and her people if she accepted Latvia's offer? What would happen if she answered otherwise? Why did Raivis Galante wait a decade after his independence, until 2000, to tell the Hungarian such a bold thing? Why indeed.

Raivis shook almost imperceptibly as he felt his left knee grow numb. He was waiting for Miss Hédéváry's, no, Erzsébet's answer. Raivis knew the Hungarian well, that she would consider first her people than herself personally. The Latvian knew from the many years they had spent with one another, in that cold mansion with golden bears and barred doors, with beautiful eggs and hideous finery. Yet, unlike the others who had asked for her hand before, Raivis proposed only out of love; he would not to use the woman, but only worship her, as befitted such a lady.

Erzsébet whispered the arrangement that would suit the both of them into Raivis's ear. Raivis agreed solemnly and watched as the Hungarian spun on her heel and walked toward the exit. "Y-you promise, r-r-right, M-miss Hédéváry, i-if I do th-these things, y-y-you will b-be mine," Raivis asked, his last word coming out loud and clear. Hungary smiled and told him that she, as woman and as country, never lied. Raivis nodded in agreement and felt sparks of hope start up in his heart even as the Hungarian woman left.

Score

They had been independent for such a short period of time that it hardly seemed fair that they be denied their wishes yet again. But, here Toris and Feliks were again, one still feeling the long ago wounds inflicted upon him as he was Ivan's "favorite" and the other still bleeding from recent injuries caused by a certain Aryan nation. Toris wrapped his arms around his Polish friend, mindful of the more serious hurts Feliks sustained. Seeing Poland like this, in pain with a broken look in his eyes, made Lithuania want to cry. The whole situation made the Lithuanian die a little on the inside.

Feliks comforted his friend, fellow nation, lover, whatever they were. The Pole could feel tears soak his military uniform, but Feliks didn't mind, because the thing was totes ugly anyways and Liet was totally more important than any uniform, any piece of clothing, just anything. Too bad Liet never seemed to realize how much he meant to the Pole, so to remedy that, the Polish man kissed the Lithuanian fervently, passionately, lovingly.

Lithuania let out a small squeak of surprise at the action, but he acquiesced and began to return the action with just as much emotion, if not more. He did so because he loved the bossy, little brat that was kissing him so freely, with his cross-dressing, his laziness, his bossiness, his shyness toward strangers, his bluntness towards Toris, his seemingly self-centered views about everything and everyone, and even his annoying valley girl/Polish accent he spoke frequently with. And Feliks loved him, even though Toris was weak, self-hating, never stood up for himself, let others take advantage of his inherent kindness, and, above all, showed others the special side of himself that, according to Feliks's all important opinion, no one really deserved, not even Feliks himself. The kiss ended after an eternity, for though they did not need to breathe, it was just natural for them to catch a breath.

The door to the room opened almost silently, with just a smidgen of noise, enough to alert the two nations that someone besides them was there. Twin violet fires burned from eyes and an insane grin marred the features of the tall Russian man standing at the doorstep. Toris began to shake much like his near northern neighbor and Feliks wrapped his arms around the Lithuanian's shoulders protectively, glaring at the monster in the doorway. Ivan tilted his head to the side, not quite comprehending the vibes he was getting from the two nations. After all, who wouldn't want to become one with Mother Russia? As Russia advanced, both Poland and Lithuania braced themselves for the inevitable outcome.

Century

Sweden didn't take his eyes off of the shivering young man that had landed on his porch. The Finn thought he was being sneaky, covering up his tracks and shushing Hanatamago before she even started barking. Too bad he was too drunk to realize that Berwald had been watching him from the window for the past ten minutes.

Tino smiled drunkenly as snow began to fall again. It was interesting, the snow was cold and the Finn normally hated cold things, but he loved the snow, the ice, and icy blue-green eyes that pierced his soul even when not visible. Eyes that made Finland shudder, hands that warmed him, and lips that kissed him when they were in love. Or perhaps they were still in love? Tino wasn't quite sure, because he could still feel his heart beat loud for his Berwald, who was still his even after all this time, but it wasn't the same. There was bitterness in the love that made the Finn shy away, a sort of sweet poison that tasted like ambrosia in those tales Greece told. Finland snapped his fingers as his muddled brain found the solution. Tino loved Berwald, but he didn't want to love him, because the emotion hurt too much for him to bear. Finland couldn't bear losing his Ruotsi, not after they had been parted for so long, so Suomi hardened his heart and tried to forget. It hurt, but not as much as it would hurt when Fate separated them both again. . .

When had he started crying?

Berwald felt his body move away from the window and out through the door and onto the porch where Tino was sobbing uncontrollably, like he had when the Finn had been shot in the chest during what his people called the Winter War. Sweden pulled Finland close and embraced the smaller nation, which caused Finland to cry harder. The Swede quickly and quietly picked up his dear Tino, because the man was still his, and moved them into the house and through the hall and into the Swede's bedroom. Berwald deposited the nation onto his bed, or tried to, since the Finn refused to let go. Sweden understood what Finland meant by that, as he often did, and situated them under the heap of blankets. Berwald hesitated for a moment, before kissing Tino's lips and tucking the Finnish man's head into the crook of his neck. Finland froze but not for long, because Sweden was here and the bed was warm and he was too tired to fight the perfection of the moment. Less than a century before, they would have either denied themselves the opportunity or never have gotten the chance, so Tino closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep, because the alcohol he consumed earlier was making it too hard to keep awake. Berwald followed suit.

&You'reBeautiful&

Finnish to English Translation:

Ruotsi – Sweden

Suomi – Finland

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