Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or anything I quote here and after.

Chapter 4: Rest

After hanging up the phone, I walked out of my closet, stretched, and walked out towards the living room. Mark was sitting on the couch, eating some Shepard's Pie he just finished making, his cat Chelsea curled up in his lap, looking content with herself. I wondered why.

He handed me a plate, and we just sat there in silence, waiting for Ivan to get out of his bath to join us for dessert. "Uncle Ban called," Mark finally spoke, "wanted to tell us that business for the resort was going great even in the summertime, and that he wants to have Gram and Papi over soon for the anniversary, along with Mutti's family." I grunted in response, my mouth full of pie. I might've grimaced a little, because Mutti's family was pretty much like the rednecks of Canada. "Don't do that." He scolded me. "Mutti's family has every right to act the way they please."

"You mean you still don't remember the time Cousin Henry called you that sexist slur, and I broke his nose with my screwdriver?" I threw the look he gave me right back at him, and he laughed at the memory. "See what I mean?"

He stopped laughing quickly, and he became serious again. "And what about Gram and Papi? They are traveling all the way from Macedonia for the one year anniversary, and you know that they're getting too old for the trip nonetheless. Shouldn't they have the right to see their son?"

I hoped he didn't see that guilty tear fall from my eye. I muttered a yes, and he turned back to the T.V., watching an American drama show about crimes.

We ate in silence again, and I waited for him to say something more. Lo, and behold, Ivan walked into the room, his blonde hair wet from his cleaning, and he had small claw marks on his cheek. Mark looked at it, and I thought he was trying to get killed. "What, Ivan. Cat got your tongue?" Ivan turned to Mark, and he stared at him with a childishly sadistic glare.

"Da, but it doesn't matter now. I'll just have to wait to see the cat scream under my grip." He sighed, as if longing for something, and he started laughing really quietly. It started to get a bit unnerving, and I couldn't stand the atmosphere between the two. What had happened with them while I was talking to an old friend?

I couldn't ignore the hostess feelings I knew I had way down deep inside any longer, and I stood up, telling Ivan to follow me. He did, and I walked into my bathroom to get a first aid kit. As I was disinfecting the wound, and kudos to Ivan for not flinching at the touch of rubbing alcohol, I also couldn't ignore the question burning in the back of my throat. "What made Chelsea do this to you?"

He looked down at me, and replied, "I had sat on the cat's tail. She batted at me, so I picked her up by the scruff of the neck, da. I didn't expect her to still lash out at me, though."

I silently laughed, before I asked the next question. "What happened between you and Mark?"

Ivan smiled, and it was kinda creepy. I tried not to think about the fact that I was touching the face that was smiling creepily, either. "Your brother walked in on me trying to punish the little kitty."

About to scold him for doing such a bad thing to that cat, I looked sidelong, not entirely innocent of punishing Mark's Devil Cat myself. Throwing out that sentence, I started with a new one. "You shouldn't do things like that to anger Mark. He knows how to poison you food."

He spoke after I placed the bandage over the wound. "I'm sure I can live through it, da."

Sigh. "I wish you luck then." I ain't gettin' through to that thick-skinned idiot soon. "By the way, I have to leave over the weekend for some, uh, business in America." I think he grunted at me in response, but the look he gave me did creep me out a bit.

"What is it for?" He asked.

Lie, lie. Gotta think of one fast. "I'm going down to visit an old friend." Damn.

"Okay. Thanks, da." He smiled, and walked out of the bathroom.

Our kitchen is designed to be big, spacious, and designed for the glory of a gourmet chef-to-be like Mark. It has to be big because Mark and I live in a remote ski lodge on our parents ski resort, and our home is refugee for the poor, lost souls of the skiers who come here. Sometimes, it's so big that I can't even find anything relatively human-sized. Like my brother, for example. Now where did he go?

Walking into Giganta-kitchen, also known as Waldo's home, I was on a mission to find my brother. I needed to tell him he needed to make a big meal and a belated birthday cake. "Mark,...are you trying to find your missing left socks? Because we already know the trolls took them." I joked, watching him turn around the corner.

"What do you want, Mia?" He placed his hands on his hips again.

"Oh, just telling you that I'll be going down to America to see Kara for the weekend. And that she also accidentally clicked that link for the Hetalia units. Plus, she wants some of your cooking, and a lot of it. Make it a big meal." I leaned against the countertop, staring up at him.

"Oh, sure. It's, what, 10 at night, and you want me to make a huge meal, and why do you get to see Kara and I don't?"

I sighed. "No, my idiot brother. You can make it in the morning. I won't leave until tomorrow afternoon anyways. I wanted to go for a ride on the slopes with you all tomorrow." We both leaned against the table, trying to find a way to communicate through that weird twin connection. It's an old habit from childhood, and sometimes it works...

Except when a certain Russian man interrupts when he too places his damn good-looking face WAY too close to mine for my liking. Shut up. I'm not blushing.

Mark and I scooted away just a bit, but darn his 180 centimeters, he inched closer. I dared to ask him, "What do you want, Ivan?"

Pause.

"Become one with Mother Russia?"

"Seems like Mr. Russian there is pretty close to stealing your throne, Queen Lynn." Mercedes laughed at me, flipping her dark tresses out of her eyes.

"Oh, Hardy Har Har. He can't take my throne, he's not a woman." I grumbled. Sure, Ivan was pretty good at the slopes, but I was still better...right? I'm only a semi-pro, anyways. I'm still one of the top snowboarders in Canada's Women Winter Sports Association.

I felt sorry for the poor soul who had to sit with Ivan on the ski lift.

Author's Note: Finally, huh, guys? The next few chapters will come in soon! I promise~