A/N: Hello again! Here's a fluffy follow-up for the story ~ Express thanks for all the reviews... DISCLAIMER: Hetalia does not belong to me. You belong to Mother Russia... :)
One month later...
Sighing contentedly, you snuggled deeper into Ivan's jacket. Sure, it was a bit strange that he was wearing it indoors with the fireplace blazing, but you really couldn't complain, as it lent comfort and warmth to your small frame. You felt his lips in your hair, his long arms circling your waist, as you cuddled together on the sofa, not needing words to communicate with each other.
It came to you, then, as you trailed a finger along the otherwise untouchable scarf, that you never had gotten a reward out of returning it. Not a monetary one, anyways But you and Ivan had began seeing each other that same week, and you had each grown to love the other very, very much. That's reward enough for me, you thought and smiled complacently up at Ivan, though you did make a mental note to never again, in your life as a working lost-and-found, respond to an ad that stated "Reward negotiable". Then again, I doubt that few people but Ivan would do something like that...
Your comfortable silence was rudely shaken by a slamming door and resounding footsteps coming down the hall. Both you and Ivan bolted upright as a shrill voice rang through the house: "BIIIIIIG BROOOOOTHEEEEERR! I'M HE - re..." The voice was cut short and you found yourself observing a white-blond-haired young woman standing with jaw completely slacked in the doorway to the den. Her surprise turned to a menacing bluish aura a split second later, and she jumped at you with hands outstretched, clawlike. "GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER YOU LITTLE TROLLOP!"
She missed you by an inch, hurtling headlong into the sofa cushion as you and Ivan leapt apart. "Natalia! Stop it! It's okay!" Ivan made a mad dash for his sister, but she ducked under his reaching arm and lunged at you again. You dodged her once more, almost knocking over a stack of books and a half-empty bottle of vodka before propelling yourself towards the front door.
The three of you must have presented a comical sight (as a certain American watching from a nearby window observed, choking gleefully on bits of hamburger), slipping and sliding over the frozen sidewalks, you in the lead, running - quite literally - for your life. Belarus was right behind you, hair and skirt flying, launching obscenities into the chill winter air. And then came Ivan, waving his pipe in one hand, likewise cursing... "NATALIA! WHY YOU CHASE THEM ALL AWAY?! WHY I HAVE TO LOSE MY SCARF JUST TO MEET SOMEONE! COOOOOME BAAAAACK, DA?!"