Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and its characters.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those who have reviewed, alerted, favourited: Frustration, Ankhasia Riddle, Kitty the Dinosquirrel, envysfangirl, PikoPiko-Chan, Silver FoxWolf, citrine sunflower, Canyon's Rose, chickenkitty, ZeroLuver567, Lady Sandra of Sealand, Tamarutaca, 101Icestormxx and all my anonymous readers.

Warnings: RussxLat fluffy angst (flangst?), swearing and Prussia

Chapter 7 – Uprising (stop sniggering at the back)

Leningrad, Russia

Latvia had gone to bed early. After vomiting violently and then again after Toris had come back from the Mafia's den and told her and her fellow Nations about the fight – in awful graphic detail, she'd refused to eat dinner (she just couldn't stomach it and had gone off her food in recent days) and had spent most of the evening avoiding Russia's embraces.

All through their very brief affair in Vienna, which seemed to her now like a soft-focussed dream, the violence Russia was capable of had been pushed conveniently to the back of her mind. But here, in Russia's house, she had no choice but to face it. Her old fear of him had come back with a vengeance and although he had never deliberately hurt her in the past, his temper and strength frightened her.

She was now laid in bed staring up at the snow-covered skylight. She was also straining her ears. The house was eerily quiet. She thought she'd heard Ukraine's soft footfalls on the landing below and then a door had creaked shut and muted giggles. But the noise she was listening for could not be heard. Her bedroom was just above Russia's and she often heard his snoring during the night.

When she had first arrived in Russia's house it had kept her awake night after night and irritated her. Until Lithuania had told her, being the wise Nation that he was, that it was actually a good thing that Russia snored, because then the Baltics knew where the bigger Nation was and that he was asleep and, hence, relatively harmless. So, after this explanation, she came to regard the noise – which sometimes sounded like a low-flying jet, at other times like a freight train and other times made the whole house vibrate – as welcome. In fact, occasionally, she couldn't relax unless she heard it. Rather like one of those relaxation tapes with whale songs on it.

Latvia rolled over, snuggled down and tried counting sheep. Where was Boris anyway? The blasted cat hadn't come in when she'd called. It wasn't like him to be out all night, certainly not on such a cold night, unless he was hunting mice. She could usually count on the huge cat to keep her warm.

Then she heard the attic stair creak painfully and strange shushing noises. She dug herself deep down under the blankets, like a child hiding from the bogeyman, her breath catching in her throat. The door creaked open slowly and filling the doorway was Russia. Granted, he was wearing fluffy blue pyjamas and his hair was mussed up, but he was also clutching his faucet pipe in one hand and there was a purple aura shimmering around his broad shoulders (he'd stubbed his toe on the way up).

Latvia squeaked and buried herself back under her covers.

Novogorod Street, Leningrad, Russia

The Awesome Gilbert was driving through the streets of Leningrad and was getting lost. Of course he wasn't actually getting lost. The Awesome One did not 'get lost' he was taking the scenic route. Russi-cat had finally stopped yowled and seemed content to just tear up the pet blanket that Gilbert had kindly put into the cage into little shreds.

"I hate this bloody place," Gilbert said to himself. "Stinking Russkies... can't even... build... a ... sodding ... road..." at each pause Gilbert's most awesome van hit a pothole and then there was a bang.

"Noooooo!" Gilbert huffed and puffed and jumped out. This was just shite... he had a flat tyre. He stood for a minute, scratching his silvery-blond head and glared at the flat- as-a-pancake tyre, as if the thing would re-inflate just through the power of the mind. After all, Prussia as a Nation no longer existed but Gilbert did, purely through sheer willpower so surely a flat tyre can be un-flat by sheer willpower, right? Wrong.

Back at the house

"R... R... Russia," she stammered.

Russia smiled in, what he thought, in his little mixed-up head, was a seductive way. To Latvia it appeared like a frightening 'I'm going to kill you' grin.

Russia shut the door and said, "Shush," whether to her, to himself, the creaking door or to Mr Pipe, it's unclear.

Russia approached her bed and seemed to loom over her.

"You can't just..." she began falteringly.

Russia climbed into her bed, dropped the faucet pipe on the floor with a clunk and shuffled up to her.

"... get into my bed," she finished lamely.

It was only a single bed and Latvia found herself squashed up to him. He wrapped his arms around her as gently as he could. But, as stated before, Russia's idea of 'gentle' and Latvia's idea of 'gentle' did not tally.

"Eeek," she squeaked, "You're hurting me."

Back to Gilbert and his awesome van

Prussia knew that if his bruder was here, this would take just a few minutes, brilliant engineer and car mechanic that he was. However, Prussia was not. Prussia was good at fighting, vandalism, battle tactics, annoying people so much that they went into fits of rage, picking up women, drinking beer and being the most awesome person on the planet (he was a legend in his own head). However, Prussia was largely ignorant of the mechanics of motor vehicles and certainly did not know how to change a wheel.

"How hard can this be?" he said to himself.

He stood looking at said tyre and then rummaged in the back of the van to find the spare. Boris growled at him. Gilbert leapt back.

He was really wondering if kidnapping this animal was really a good idea. And then he realised something else, he'd forgotten to leave the ransom note.

"Bollocks," he said with feeling. His own were turning a Prussian blue now, so he sped up his rummaging and finally found, underneath a covering the fabled spare wheel. He just had to swap it...

Back in the house

Russia snuffled into Latvia's hair, "You feel so warm and soft," he murmured.

"No..." she whimpered desperately and tried, unsuccessfully to push him off. He felt huge in the confines of her bed and he'd shuffled himself on top of her, his weight pressing her down.

"I just need warming up..." he whispered into her hair. She'd allowed her hair to grow now and the soft curls just came down to her shoulders. He reached up and gently ran his fingers through it.

Latvia felt herself pulled more securely into his arms and she grabbed his shoulders and tried to push him off, "No Ivan," she said, fear spiking. She was scared, the day's events had rattled her, his purple aura still shimmered and Hungary's warnings kept going round and round in her head. She didn't trust him to be gentle.

Gilbert & his van

Gilbert stood with the spare wheel in one hand and the jack in the other. He knew you used the jack to raise the vehicle so you could get the wheel off, but how and where to put the thing? He would have asked someone but there was no-one around and besides he was loath to ask an un-awesome Russkie for help.

He tried several times to shove the jack under the flattened wheel and pushing the handle up and down as if he were pumping for water. Nothing happened. There was a yowl from Boris as if the damned Russian cat knew. Cats can't laugh can they?

Prussia took to hitting the offending wheel with the jack in the vain hope that his awesome strength would make the thing come off. It didn't.

Inside the house

Russia hesitated, his hands moving lower so that they rested on her hips, gently stroking. Her body warmth had flooded the big Arctic Nation and he could feel his frozen hands and feet melting. "Hmm?" he hummed as he looked down at her.

"I can't... I'm er..." she faltered, thinking furiously and then thought up the ideal excuse, "It's that time of the month..." she whispered finally.

Russia frowned, confusion clear on his face, "It's the 14th?" He had no idea what the date had to do with it.

Latvia sighed and said with great emphasis in her voice, "... got the builders in..."

"Wut?" Russia was very confused now. What builders? They'd had to get some plumbers in when he'd destroyed the bathroom the other week, but no builders.

Latvia gave up, she'd forgotten that sometimes it was best when dealing with Russia to just be up-front and plain, "I've got my period," she said frankly and gave him a shove.

"Ooooh," he said. He gently kissed her and rolled off her reluctantly, almost falling out of bed.

"I could be your hot water bottle, da?" he whispered, scrambling back into bed.

Latvia relaxed a bit and shuffled around so that he was hugging her from behind. Her put his arms around her waist and pulled her back onto his lap tightly and gently rubbed her stomach.

"Vanya?"

"Da?"

"Did you bring your bloody faucet pipe to bed?" she whispered as she eased off his lap a little. 'Honestly, the big idiot,' she thought. Although that was the least of her worries, she was thinking about the little white... actually no scrub that, the huge whopping lie she'd just told.

Russia blushed, his cheeks burning and shuffled around a bit, loosening his grip on her, "Erm..." he stammered, wriggling a bit.

Latvia frowned, ignoring him, thinking furiously about dates, it was the fourteenth today so that meant...

"I told you everything would be okay," Russia said chirpily.

"Wut? I mean, er, what?" Latvia said.

"You know, in Vienna. You were a little worried and I told you not to worry and that everything would be fine," Russia answered her in a little happy voice. Then he gently snuffled her hair affectionately.

"Ooooh, right," Latvia said, not really listening, she was still doing the maths in her head, 'oh shit oh shit oh shit,' she thought.

Russia nuzzled her and grinned happily. All was well in his little happy place. On 'Planet Ivan', everything was hunky-dory, he had his favourite little Baltic in his arms, "I can wait," he whispered, "There's no rush. A few days, da?" he added as he drifted off in the arms of Morpheus.

Latvia waited, feeling Russia's grip on her relax a little, her brain whirring. 'I can't do this. I shouldn't have lied. But I shouldn't have to lie. When was the last time... oh no... He'll never let me go. Hungary said ...I can't be... actually I could be... I've been sick a few times... ohshitohshitohshit' all these thoughts whizzed through her head making her feel dizzy. She felt her body tense up a little as Russia rubbed her stomach gently and then she relaxed as she felt his breathing become steadier through the rise and fall of his chest against her back. Then he started snoring. It sounded rather like someone had started a chainsaw in her left ear.

She made a decision, whether it was the right one she was unsure. But it was borne of panic, fear and a horrible sense of helplessness.

Very carefully, she manoeuvred the arm that was flung over her from its position clasped around her waist and placed it carefully on Russia's side. He mumbled incoherently and Latvia froze. The redundant hand moved up and ruffled her hair and then stayed resting on her head. He kissed the back of her neck and then after a few sighs, his snoring resumed.

She held herself very still and resisted the urge to just leap out of bed, thus waking him or indeed, snuggling back into his warm lap.

Russia, however, probably due to a combination of vodka and fighting, started snoring again.

Latvia shuffled forward trying to ease herself out of his reach, his other arm still under her body. She froze again as Russia snorted, mumbled something that sounded like 'Riga' and rolled over onto his back, effectively freeing her.

She slid quietly off the bed and quickly, silently started dressing in her olive green combats. She located her old army knapsack and started throwing random stuff in – underwear, a spare sweater, her ABBA tapes, notepad and pen (a writer never goes anywhere without writing material) and finally Ivan's service revolver that she still possessed. She tried, vainly, to cram her sniper rifle in, but it wouldn't fit and regretfully she left it. She picked up her army boots and then glanced back at her sleeping boss.

Fast asleep on his back, his chest rising and falling, one arm flung over his head, the other stretched out in the void which she'd just recently vacated, his mouth half open as if catching flies, and golden lashes lying softly on his pale cheeks, he looked anything but intimidating.

Latvia had to admit that he was rather handsome - when he wasn't intimidating people, glowering, glaring, swearing, 'kolkolling', eating like a pig, throwing people into walls or through doorways. In sleep his features were much softer and his beige-blond hair had fallen messily over his eyes. 'He needs another haircut,' she thought.

Latvia shook herself out of her reverie and resisted the urge to jump back into bed with him. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and brushed his fringe out of his closed eyes. 'Sorry,' she whispered.

Russia grumbled and rolled over. Latvia tucked the blankets around his shoulders and without a backwards glance, hitched the knapsack on her shoulder and stole quietly down the stairs. She paused at the bottom and pulled on her boots.

She trod carefully into the study and pulled aside a large painting of the Battle of Moscow revealing a wall safe, hoping that Estonia had not changed the combination. He hadn't. She turned the dials – 240218 and pulled it open, taking out one of the red exit Visas, one hundred roubles, a hundred US dollars and, as an afterthought, because it was there beckoning to her, Russia's Bank of Russia credit card.

She gave thanks to Estonia for thinking ahead and hoped she'd left enough money for him and Lithuania when the time came. All she had to do, she thought was get to the West, contact her publisher and claim her royalties from her Lucinda Lovelace novels, then she could set up home somewhere obscure. That was the plan.

Finally, she went to the coat closet and rummaged around for her padded winter coat. She shoved aside Russia's huge Red Army greatcoats, Lithuania's shabby winter coat, Estonia's remarkably smart overcoat, a Panda costume... wait what? She paused and then shook her head and finally found her coat, threw it on, paused one last time and in a moment of weakness took one of Russia's many scarves – a red one – and wrapped it around her. She then stepped out into the cold Leningrad air, closed the huge heavy door as quietly as she could and set off walking, her boots crunching in the compacted snow.

Watching her with puzzled amber eyes, was a bad-tempered and very cold Italian, 'That's one of the trembling bastards,' he thought to himself and then corrected himself, 'That's the girly one... oh yeah, Latvia... maybe I should help her. She looks cold,' Romano thought. He was, despite his gruff and foul-mouthed exterior, a sucker for a pretty girl and he almost started the engine to go after her. He stopped himself, remembered his mission and snuggled back into his jacket, his hands tucked under his armpits trying to keep warm in this crap country. 'Not long 'til daybreak,' he thought, and then 'boom'.

Author's Note: I'm not sure if there is a Novogorod Street in St Petersburg – I made that up.

Morpheus – Roman God of sleep and dreams

Riga – capital of Latvia

240218 – combination of the safe refers to the date of Estonian Independence from Russia (the first time) 24th February 1918.

There were two type of exit visas in Soviet Union days – red – which gave the carrier permission to leave temporarily and green which mean you could leave permanently – and lose Soviet citizenship. I thought that Estonia being the clever man he is would have several such visas to hand if and when they were needed. An escape plan if you like.

Have caught up with all the chapters I'd got written down in longhand in my little notebook so am back to my planned chapters so updates will slow down. Will jog by next week with the next one.

Is this chapter too icky, fluffy? Please review, comment, correct, or just PM me...

Next Chapter: an unexpected alliance, panic and someone goes back in time... (not Doctor Who)