Canada woke eight hours later with a fuzzy head and unclear thoughts in his head as to why he had been woken up. Sleep, which had evaded him for most of the month, was a sweet temptress, and he was more than willing to fall into it again.
But Kumajirou's prodding nose on his face proved his wants and dreams useless. He opened his eyes to glare at his friend. "What?"
"I'm hungry," the bear all but pouted.
"Then eat." Matthew closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep.
"There's no food, and the big man has been hitting the door."
Big man translated to his taller and beefier twin, Alfred. Matthew groaned and rolled out of bed. He was slightly dizzy, and his muscles were slow to respond. On top of that, his headache was still there, and his mouth was dry.
"Mattie!" Alfred yelled from outside his door. "Come on, I've been standing out here for forever! Open your door!"
"In a minute," Matthew told him. Running fingers through his hair, and yawning, he opened the door to allow his brother in. "Yes?"
"Bro, Germany is pissed."
"Why?"
"Because he got fined for a late-check out..." His eyes stopped focusing on his brother and instead focused through him. "What?"
"Al. Why is Germany mad, again?" Matthew asked impatiently.
"Mattie! Where did you come from?" America asked when he saw Canada again. "Been looking all over for you. Germany's mad because you didn't check out of the hotel in time, man."
Shit. Matthew winced. "Tell him I'll pay him back the fine while I pack up, would you?"
"Yeah, bro, you got it." Alfred took off down the hallway whistling. Matthew knew he would probably forget what he was supposed to do, and leave Germany thinking that Matthew was a jerk. He'd talk to Ludwig, as well, he decided.
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked.
"I'm Canada, Kumasi," he answered, knowing he got the name wrong and knowing it didn't really matter. "Come on, we have to pack."
Ten minutes later, he was at the front desk apologizing to the clerk and paying the fine. Ludwig was standing outside with his arms crossed, looking intimidating.
"I'm s-sorry," Matthew whispered when he went to talk to him. "I-I paid the fine, so you don't have to."
"Good." Ever curt, Germany simply walked away, muttering something about Italy.
"Well, Kuma-Kuma, let's go home," Canada said to the bear draped around his neck.
"Finally."
Russia sat at his desk in his study, frowning at the wood as if it had done him personal harm. He tapped his fingers in a steady rhythm, bored out of his mind.
There was simply nothing to do. He was as stable as could be at the moment, there were no natural disasters, his boss didn't want to talk to him and he could think of no one to visit. He could go out and enjoy the culture of his people and his nation, but he couldn't bring himself to do that.
There was nothing for it, then, he decided. Ivan stood, letting his body unfold in a graceful movement and his omnipresent scarf followed. It was time to get drunk off his ass.
He passed through his empty and quiet house, and flipped the light on in the kitchen. Above his fridge was a cupboard specifically for vodka, the Water of Life. He reached up and grabbed one of several bottles up there easily, and shut the cupboard door. Twisting the cap off, he threw it away while chugging at the bottle. The pure alcohol fuzzed his mind a bit, not drunk or tipsy, but enough of a buzz going that he remembered to not be bored.
Taking another swig, he flipped the light off and walked out to his porch. It was snowing quietly, like something out of a Christmas card, and it was one of the few things he still enjoyed about the weather in his country.
He eyed the pipe that stood against the house that was sitting on the porch, frozen to the ground. How long has it been since he'd used that? Ivan tried to figure it out while drinking, and soon losing his train of thought.
He stared out at the landscape, and took another swig. But it was empty, so he went inside and grabbed another, setting the empty on the counter. This time, before he went back outside, he took his coat with him. Shrugging it on, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and sat on the front step once more, toastier than before. He wasn't sure if it was the vodka or the coat, and it didn't really matter.
He sighed. He was bored, not even his tipsy mind could make him forget that despite his best efforts. He needed something to do with his life, something amusing and preferably beneficial to him and his country.
Ivan had almost reached that with the Cold War, when he tried to make everyone one with him. That obviously didn't work so well, and he couldn't help but rue his loss. If the world was his, and under his command, it would be perfect. Sure, there would be the odd strike against him, and rebels were pretty much a given, but he was sure that in time everyone would see the appeal of being Russian.
And really, it's not like Germany didn't try the same thing in the forties. What with WWII and everything. His mistake, though, was that he only wanted one type of person in his world. Ivan didn't care who was in his world, as long as they were in his world.
If he had the chance to do it again, he'd be a lot sneakier. Ivan nodded to himself and tried to drink more vodka, but the full bottle that was in his grasp was now empty. How did that happen?
Oh, well. He went back inside, and retrieved another full one, setting the second empty on the counter next to the other one. Back outside, he tried to gather his thoughts.
What was he thinking about before he ran out of booze? Women? No, he didn't think so. Work? What work?
"What?" he slurred to himself, staring at the bottle as if it could give him answers. "What was I thinking about?"
He cast his eyes around the porch, trying to focus on the pipe against the house. But it wasn't there anymore. Panicking, he looked around, looking for his instrument of freedom before whacking himself in the face with it. "Oh!" he said happily, glad he had found it.
Running gloved fingers up and down the rusty and battered surface, his previous thoughts filtered through. World domination. Sneaky world domination. So sneaky that the other countries wouldn't even know what was going on. Not that they really had an idea now, though.
But who to take on first? he wondered. Surely not any of the U.K. They knew his tricks. And certainly not America. Who? Who was he forgetting?
He racked his brain, trying to remember. He set the pipe down on the ground, but he must have tossed it because it went scuttling away on the ice, about twenty feet away. Damn it.
He reached for the vodka and realized there was nothing there. Why should he have to go inside all the time? Why? He stomped inside and grabbed three bottles of vodka and brought them out with him. He set them down carefully on the floor of his porch, shaking a finger at the wood.
"You hold still now, da?" When he was certain that the ground wouldn't steal his vodka and he felt it was sufficiently threatened, he navigated the stairs to grab his trusty pipe.
After sliding on the ice that he couldn't see, he sat down on the steps and continued to drink into the night, trying to figure out who he had forgotten and why it was important.
What he needed, he decided, was someone to confide in. Yes, all these thoughts were nice and good, but as it stood they would only remain as such: thoughts. Who was a good listener, then?
Matthew opened his eyes to a lit up phone on his bedside table. He had almost been asleep. So freakin' close. He sighed and grabbed his trusty flip phone.
"Hello?" His voice, cracked from being silent for the last few hours, sounded strange to him.
"Comrade Matvey?"
"Russia?"
"Da. I have not woken you, have I?"
"Um, no, I was just trying to take a nap, b-but it wasn't going to happen. Russia, are you okay? You sound weird."
"Da, I am fine."
There was an awkward pause, in which Matthew shuffled his feet uncomfortably while waiting for the large Russian to say what he needed to.
"Matvey, I have always wondered why people ignore you," Russia said bluntly.
"Because I'm seen as unimportant, I would suppose," he answered carefully, eyes narrowing in thought. "It has also crossed my mind that at first everyone was just playing a prank on me, but then everyone forgot it was supposed to be a prank."
"You are the second largest country, da?"
"W-well, I guess-"
"Then, why do you allow yourself to be ignored?"
Matthew sighed lightly, wishing the conversation was over. "Did you call just to ask why people ignore me? Because I honestly don't know why they do."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone before Russia said, "I have forgotten why I have called," rather sheepishly.
"Oh. Well, It's probably really late in Russia, so I'm just going to let you go so you can sleep, alright?"
"Da." With that curt agreement the Russian hung up, and Matthew sighed a large breath of relief.
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked sleepily from his perch on the couch.
"I'm Canada."
"Who was that?"
"Russia, of all people. He forgot why he called, I guess." He felt a wave of sickness pass through his small body and saliva flood his mouth in preparation of, well, "sicking up".
He barely made it to the washroom in time, and Kumajirou fell back asleep, far too used to the sounds by now to be concerned for the human.
Ivan stared at his phone with glassy eyes. What was the point in that? he asked himself. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he gathered the vodka up and headed inside after placing his pipe back on the porch. Before he fell asleep, he stumbled to his study and grabbed some paper and a pen.
After writing down his sneaky domination plan, he prepared himself for sleep. Falling easily into it, his last thought was, Hopefully this works.
Of course, when he woke the next morning, he staggered into his kitchen with his head in his hands. His scarf was a little looser than normal to avoid sitting on his throat and his coat was undone and hanging open. He groaned at himself when he saw the five empties sitting on the counter. Water of Life indeed, he scoffed. He picked them all up and threw them away before starting some bread for toast, pretty much all his stomach could handle right now.
His phone went off, and he fumbled for it. His sister, Natalia. He decided to let it ring, unwilling to deal with her this early in the...he glanced at the clock. Afternoon. Good thing he didn't have anything planned for today, he thought wryly.
The phone went to voice mail, and Ivan sighed in relief. He prepared his toast and flopped on the couch with it and some coffee, flipping through the channels. Glancing at the time on his phone, he noticed the new voice mail icon along side the missed call icon. Checking the voicemail first he listened to the breathing of Natalia for a few seconds before she had hung up. Deleting the all too familiar message, he clicked through the menu of his phone to look a the missed call so the corresponding icon disappear on his phone.
It was while he was doing this that he noticed the call to Canada. God damn it. This day just keeps getting better and better.
A.N.: Thank you so much for the review and the follows and favorites! Totally made my day. Please, if you enjoyed this chapter, let me know! Or, you know, if I wrote something so glaringly wrong that I'm an idiot for not catching it, let me know about that too so I can fix it!
