Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete.
* Quick note: a section written in italics represents inner dialogue or a memory.
Tired of Waiting
America ran through the corridors at top speed with his arms in the air, muttering engine noises absentmindedly as he processed what he had seen in the courtyard. He always thought more clearly when he was moving, and this was important, so he needed to move fast.
He turned another corner sharply and his feet slid across the glossed tiles.
Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.
Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.
Prussia had tried to kiss his brother.
No matter how he said it; it sounded wrong. The thought of it turned his stomach and tied it into tight knots. Worst of all, it seemed like Canada had been interested. Before, it had just been a game to keep Prussia away from his brother and a mild concern. Now, it was very, very serious.
What was he going to do?
He slid around another corner and slammed his hand into the wall by accident. It stung, but not enough to distract him.
Prussia could not have his brother, and that was it. Simple as that.
America and Canada had always been together, back as far as either of them could remember. America liked to think that the two of them had been one, a long time ago. When they were together, he felt whole. When they were apart, he felt like a piece of his soul was missing, and they were apart more often than he would like to admit. He cherished every single moment and memory with his brother, and there had been a lot of them through the centuries.
America watched as the door opened and closed, flipping a coin absentmindedly and smiling at the barkeep. Every couple that came through the doors was dressed in their finest, with pocket watch chains for the men and pearls for the women. The groups of young men that stumbled in the door laughed raucously as they scanned the room for dance partners and a good time. Small gatherings of women tittered amongst themselves and peeked shyly at the boys through heavily made up eyes. The band was playing a lively ragtime beat and the 'canary' was singing vivaciously on stage as she hiked her skirt up even higher. America took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled lightly, watching the smoke spiral up towards the ceiling to join the low hanging cloud.
It was the roaring twenties and everyone worth their salt smoked.
The barkeep finally wandered over to where America sat and snatched the coin out of the air.
"Whatcha want, Mac?" He asked gruffly as he pocketed the coin and stared down at him. America grinned at the man.
"Two hooch, whatever you've got."
"Not sure I should be giving you two of anything, fly boy. Heard you slugged O'Mallory last night."
"Ah, you're just a wet blanket. He deserved it. I'm on the up and up today. Meetin' someone."
"Got yourself a flapper, did you, Jones?"
"Don't let 'im hear you call him a doll. He might take it real personal like."
The barkeep barked a sharp sound of laughter and returned to the bar to fill two short glasses from an unmarked barrel. The prohibition was in full swing but that did not stop Americans from flocking to underground establishments like this speakeasy. Instead of reducing alcohol consumption, the law had spiked unprecedented interest in hard liquor.
At last, Canada slouched through the ever-revolving doors and spotted America through the haze. The barkeep came up and slid the drinks over the table as America waved Canada over.
"Quite the sheik, ain't he?" Observed the man. Indeed, as Canada stepped through the room, the low rumbling of voices hushed and eyes followed his every move. This was not uncommon when humans met a nation; there was something otherworldly to them, but that was not the only reason. Canada cut a striking figure in his pinstriped trousers and vest, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up against the sweltering heat. His shoes were highly polished and the light flashed off the silver of his clasps and buckles. Canada's hair was slicked back, as was the style of the times, and it suited him well. His blazer was nowhere to be seen as he walked up with his hands jammed in his pockets.
"Ain't he just? Now beat it," replied America as he tossed the barkeep another coin, stubbed the cigarette butt on the underside of the table, and stood up to shake hands with his brother. Canada grasped his hand firmly before sitting across from him and smiling.
"Lucky for you I even found this juice joint, Alfred," Canada laughed.
"That's the whole point, yeah?"
"Ab-so-lute-ly. What's this?" Canada asked and pointed to the glass of mysterious brown alcohol in front of him.
"No clue. Drink up!" The two men clinked their glasses together in a toast and downed the liquor; it burnt all the way down, as the good stuff should. The barkeep returned with another two glasses and left without saying anything, though he watched Canada curiously from the corner of his eye. The nations raised their drinks again and repeated the process.
It was a monthly tradition for the two to meet like this, always in a new town on either side of the border. It was never about politics, or trade routes; just boys being boys and an excuse to spend time with his brother.
Three hours later and more alcohol than could be considered healthy, the men were hanging off of each other and cackling loudly. The barkeep came up to them and had to tap rather harshly on America's shoulder to get his attention.
"Come on, Jones. You and your friend have got to go. Scram," he said as he lead the two men to the back door and out into the back lane. "You be careful, now. You two are fried to the hat."
"Horsefeathers," said Canada at the same time that America exclaimed, "says you," and suddenly they were laughing again as they stumbled down the alley with their arms thrown over each other. Shadows flickered past them as their footsteps fell heavily on the wet cobblestones. Their shouts and hoots bounced off the buildings and into the night.
Suddenly the two drunks were cut off by a mob of seven or more men; it was hard to tell in the dim light. America and Canada came to a swaying halt; America holding his hand up in welcome while Canada narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"Heya!" Said America cheerfully. The men remained quiet, aside from a slight shifting of weight, and Canada leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"Al, I think we've got ourselves a couple of goons."
America's smile widened.
"What's tha'? You lookin' for a fight? C'mon, you daisies!" He yelled and brought his fists up. Canada ran his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration before matching his brother's stance.
"Sir," said one of the men at the end of the alleyway, "they're either ossified or just plain goofy."
"And?" Replied another. "Their lettuce will spend just the same. Get 'em!"
As the men surged forward, it was an easy thing to toss them over their shoulders or swipe their legs out from under them. The nations had the advantage of being only two side by side in the narrow passage whereas the others moved in one crowd. It would have been simple to end the fight quickly; both America and Canada were very strong by human standards, but America looked over to see his brother laughing as he tripped one of the mobsters and danced out of the way. He dodged another one and turned to look at America with flushed cheeks and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes brought on by the alcohol; tilting his head in a wink. America nodded and flipped a man over into the trashcans; it was agreed, they were going to drag the fight out for fun.
Half an hour later, the two nations collapsed to the cobblestones, sniggering. The ground was littered with bodies and stained with blood. Canada had taken a moment to check that everyone was still breathing before joining America.
"They'll live. Might not be happy about it, but they'll live."
America slumped against Canada and rested his head in his lap. He held his arm straight up towards the night sky and pretended to catch the moon in his outstretched hand. His knuckles were bloody; with whose blood he did not know. Canada combed his fingers through America's hair and America felt contentment wash over him.
"Same time next month?" America asked and Canada hummed under his breath. He was always worried about making enemies.
"Same time, different town, please."
America chuckled lightly and licked the blood off the back of his hand; tasting the copper mix with the alcohol still on his breath.
"Deal."
After all, boys will be boys.
How was America supposed to let Prussia tear that bond apart? That feeling of contentment he felt just by being with his brother? The two of them were closer than any other countries he knew; tied together by the red strings of fate and clutching desperately to each other as time marched forward. Canada meant so many different things to America, and sometimes nothing at all, but he was always there for him.
Canada was a part of himself that he would never willingly give away. So, he was going to have to fight for him. And he was going to need help.
America nodded his head; decided, and turned yet another corner.
Russia had been meandering through the corridors with his hands clasped behind his back when America swung around the corner at breakneck speed. His arms were held aloft at ninety-degree angles and he was purring engine noises, obviously pretending to be an airplane as he ran down the hall. His bright blue eyes were squinted behind his glasses in deep concentration and it took him a second longer to see Russia than it should have. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he began shouting, "pull up, pull up" and "mayday, mayday, mayday" at the top of his lungs.
America screeched to a halt, just inches away from his chest, and glared up at the taller nation.
"Dude!"
Russia merely cocked his head to the side in curiosity and stared back at the other nation. America was apt to forget that Russia did not like him much.
"I said 'why were you just standing there'? I could have hit you!"
"But America, that is not what you said at all…" Russia felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"That's what I meant, duh," he flicked his wrist as if it no longer mattered. "But seriously, why the heck were you just standing there?"
"I heard that there was such a commotion in the courtyard. I am just on my way to see," said Russia cheerfully, followed by a darker whisper unheard by the other nation. "Only to have this fool come out of nowhere and…"
America nodded his head in overstated understanding and stroked his chin thoughtfully; wrapping a friendly arm around Russia and guiding him back down the hall, away from the courtyard. Russia cringed at the familiarity.
"Ah, you've just missed it! It was all very dramatic!" America thrust his finger into the air and enlightened Russia as to the confrontation in the garden between Denmark and Prussia. He began shouting, waving his hands, and adding sound effects with thespian panache as he did so. Whenever Russia attempted to add a word edgewise America would just speak louder and over him. Instead, he listened carefully to the tale and was able to separate fact from fiction whilst dodging America's swinging arms.
It seemed that Prussia was indeed pursuing the affections of Canada… How blatant and tackless and so much like Prussia. This would not do.
America suddenly tugged Russia into an empty room with more force than necessary and pushed him against the wall with a desperate hushing sound. He put one hand over Russia's mouth to guarantee his silence and the fingers of his other hand curled into the fabric of his scarf. Russia frowned and distastefully pried the fingers from his beloved scarf but left the hand over his mouth. He knew well enough that if America did not want to be moved then no force in the universe would be able to move him. Strength and stubbornness were a potent mixture.
His attention was elsewhere and soon Russia could also hear the chattering voices of two nations wandering the corridors.
"I can't believe that you did that! He was threatening me! You threw me to the wolves! Not cool!"
"You need protecting now, do you? Prussia, he wasn't serious!"
"Are you kidding? Denmark is always serious when it comes maiming! It's what he does!"
"Just like someone else I know."
"That's not fair, Birdie. I haven't maimed anyone in ages!"
The voices drifted into the distance and America relaxed enough for Russia to be able to peel the other hand away from his mouth.
"You will let go now, da?" Russia asked when he was able to breathe again. America started as if he had forgotten their compromising position, which was possible, and leapt away from the other man with a sheepish grin.
"Sorry about that, man. I just didn't want Matthew to see me, you know?"
"Yes, I gathered that when you slammed me against the wall."
"Yeah… Sorry?"
"It is alright. One day the tables will be turned and it is you who will be up against the wall."
America blanched as Russia cackled unnervingly under his breath.
"Ummm… You know, I really, really have somewhere else to be. Far, far away from here. Right now," said America hastily as he backed out of the room. "See you at the meeting, 'kay?"
America darted down the now vacant corridor, glancing behind several times to see Russia waving cheerfully from the doorframe of the abandoned room. After America had tripped around the corner, Russia allowed himself a secret smile that would have had Latvia shaking in his boots.
No, this would not do at all!
Latvia sneezed and rubbed the end of his nose against his sleeve. Sealand hissed and held one of his fingers against his lips, whispering for him to keep quiet. Latvia shrugged his shoulders to apologize as he was dragged through the corridors by the overconfident principality in search of the nations causing a fuss. Sealand thought that if he could capture them he would be recognized as a nation.
He was going to need a stiff drink after this.
Sealand came to an abrupt stop and bounced on the spot from one foot to the other in excitement as he pointed further down the corridor and giggled. Latvia followed his line of sight and found Prussia leaning against Canada with an exhausted sigh. Sealand heaved Latvia back around the corner to avoid interrupting.
The two of them peeked at the other nations.
"See, now I'm all tense," Prussia complained as he tapped at his shoulders to release the tension.
"Yeah?" Canada laughed and tried to shrug him off.
"Yeah. Threats have that affect on me. I think that you should kiss it better."
"Still? You're still going on about Denmark?"
"I am nothing if not persistent."
"I'm starting to see that," Canada laughed again, "but if you recall, a kiss is what got you into this whole mess in the first place."
"True. And I think I should actually get a kiss for my troubles. I was interrupted." Prussia was pouting as if he were a small child denied a treat.
Canada shifted underneath the weight of Prussia leaning on him to twist and place a lingering kiss on his cheek. Prussia stared at him in shock for a moment before Canada seemed to realize what he had done and his cheeks bloomed in a brilliant blush. He covered his burning cheeks with his hands.
Prussia chuckled and ruffled his blonde tresses in affection.
"Cute. That's not what I meant, of course, but it was very, very cute nonetheless."
Canada hurried down the corridor in shame and Prussia darted after him with a laugh. Neither of them caught sight of Latvia or Sealand. The smaller nations let out a sigh of relief and slumped against each other. Sealand was quiet for less than a minute before he jumped up and bounded in circles.
"Did you see that? Did you see that? They were kissing! Kissing!" Sealand shouted energetically as he twirled. Latvia could not prevent a soft smile at his antics and thought that perhaps it was time for England to explain the facts of life to the micronation.
Then again…
Perhaps Sweden should do it instead?
Certainly not…
No, it should be Finland. Without question. If anyone should explain 'the birds and the bees' to Sealand then Finland would be the least likely to scar the child.
Sealand pulled him to his feet and babbled as he led him back towards the conference room.
Maybe two or three stiff drinks were in order?
South Korea pulled Hong Kong along behind him as he stalked China through the hotel, nattering and claiming that each object passed was the product of his country. Hong Kong did not seem to mind but China was stiffening with suppressed rage and annoyance.
"Im Yong Soo!" China finally snapped and twisted around in a flare of crimson cloth. South Korea was grinning and shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Yes?" He asked with an innocent tilt of the head and China was tempted to throttle him. Instead, he sighed and waved it off. There was no point in being upset with him. It never seemed to make a difference.
"Never min..." China was interrupted when South Korea tackled him to the floor without warning and hauled him into a spare room to their right.
He was too old for this...
Hong Kong followed them without a word and did not even blink at the half dressed couple their entrance had interrupted. It seemed as if no situation could surprise him.
The man paused with his hands pressed against her ample breasts and the woman began to shout in alarm. South Korea whisked his fingers over his lips as if pulling a zipper shut before miming slitting their throats as a threat. He offered China no such luxuries as he carelessly slapped both his hands over his mouth from behind and blocked his nose in the process.
China was still spluttering and plucking at the fingers when Canada and Prussia passed their hiding spot. Canada was nudging Prussia and Prussia was walking much too close to be considered platonic. Canada was flushing as Prussia attempted to pat his backside before his hand was batted but he was laughing.
The nations disappeared in the space of a second, but it was more than enough time for China to see the obvious flirting.
It hurt more than it should have and he cursed his foolish heart. It seemed that age had not brought him wisdom and instead made him more vulnerable than ever.
The hands covering his mouth loosened and China was able to twist to see South Korea in a rare moment of solemn thought. He was slumped forward and seemed a little shocked at his own reaction. His jealous aggravation was palatable as well as another nameless emotion.
He was a hopeless cause.
China sidled up beside him and smoothed circles on his back. He watched as Hong Kong shuffled about and collected the strewn pieces of clothing the couple had discarded before the nations stumbled in. It was curious to watch Hong Kong fold the clothing into neat piles and press them into the hands of the confused couple and usher them into the corridor. He slammed the door without explanation and returned to where China and South Korea were curled around each other.
He held his hand and rested his head on South Korea in a comforting gesture. His expression never changed.
China left South Korea to sort through his emotions for a couple of minutes before jostling him with a gentle smile.
"So... What are we to do about it?"
South Korea gave him a blank stare and China jostled him again. Comprehension dawned on him and a manic smile burst forth.
"Retribution was made in Korea."
Prussia would have to be blind to have not noticed the nations following them; creeping through the corridors and hiding in abandoned rooms. He would have to be blind, deaf, and an idiot. He could see them dart around corners and hear them shuffling and hear them shushing each other. Subtleness was not their strong point.
He should be furious at their meddling, but it was odd that he could care less. Let them come. He was much more interested in the blonde and the strange inkling of a promise long forgotten. If only he could remember... Prussia had only planned to take advantage of his nature but now he found himself actually looking forward to the date. He had been curious but now he was genuinely interested.
Canada was keeping step beside him and animate as he rambled. His cheeks were stained with a blush and his curls were still tousled from their encounter earlier. He was a vision.
If only he could remember...
No matter. If the other nations were so set on separating them Prussia was all the more obstinate. His brother had been telling him for centuries that he was impossible and stubborn. It would be an asset.
The more time he spent with Canada, the more time he wanted with him. He had been watching Canada from afar for much too long and he was now positive that this chance was worth fighting for.
Canada waggled his fingers in front of his face and he realized that his mind had been wandering.
"Are you alright?"
"Shouldn't I be?"
"Well... You never answered the question. And you seemed distracted."
Which question? Prussia slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead in mortification. He had not been listening to a word Canada said while he was lost in his own thoughts.
"Ah, I was thinking." He was apologetic but Canada dismissed the issue with a flick of his wrist.
"That's shocking," he teased. "What were you thinking about?"
Prussia grinned and it was three parts mischievous to two parts roguish.
"You."
Author's Notes:
A speakeasy was an underground establishment that served illegal alcohol during the prohibition in the 1920's. It was often hidden in a secret room behind a legitimate business or on the outskirts of town, and may have required a secret knock or password to gain access.
The term 'mayday' is an internationally recognized distress signal that comes from the French 'venez m'aider', meaning 'come help me'. Interesting note: it is always said three times in a row to keep it from being confused with anything else over the static of a radio.
"Up against the wall" can mean that defeat or failure is imminent or it can refer to death by firing squad... Among other things... In short, it means that you're screwed.
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