Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and its characters.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those who have reviewed, alerted, favourited: Art and Soul, SchrapnelGirl, GermanyIsAwesome-NotPrussia, iTorchic, kakashailuckyblackcat, , Xou, alexf801, chattie98, Myrna Maeve (and Romania!), ThatPurplyThing, Forever Halfa, WinterLake 25, Frustration, Ankhasia Riddle, Kitty the Dinosquirrel, envysfangirl, PikoPiko-Chan, Silver FoxWolf, citrine sunflower, Canyon's Rose, chickenkitty, ZeroLuver567, Lady Sandra of Sealand, Tamarutaca, 101Icestormxx, VengefulCat and all my anonymous readers. If I've missed anyone, please PM me and tell me off.

Warnings: sexual innuendo (as always – maybe I should warn you when there isn't any), random car chase, Pru-Den

Chapter 15 – Hold Me In Your Arms

Wednesday AM

Various people woke up in the arms of people they did not expect to wake up with.

Vienna, Austria

Alfred and Arthur (with Mr Pillow in the middle) were spooning. "Oooh Belgium... you're so curvy..."

"Bloody hell, America! Get your hands off me!"

"Honhonhon, wait for me... and I will join you..."

Tallinn, Estonia

Denmark and Prussia were also cuddling... Prussia had his arms wrapped around the Dane and was snuffling the Dane's crazy blond hair.

"Hmmmmm, that feels nice... just kiss me there... oooh Iike that... just hand me that lube," Den murmured.

"Was?" Prussia exclaimed.

"Hvad?"

"Oooh, you two are so sweet together... Den and Pru... made for each other... let me get my camera," Latvia said.

"Aaaargh! I hope that's not your hand..."

"Kesese! It was my five metres of awesomeness..."

"Oh no! You moved... that would have been brilliant. Hungary would have paid loads for that picture. You both looked so cute."

"I don't sleep with men."

"Nein, neither do I."

"So, Den, what were you doing with Francis in Vienna?"

Another couple who had been sleeping rather too closely was Russia and Estonia.

"Nnnnggg... oh Aija... just move back a bit."

"Aaarrrrrrgggghhhh!" and then "Sir!"

Sharing a bed with Russia was never on a 'list of 100 things to do before I die' for Estonia, but this is precisely what he found himself doing. They'd had to find the nearest motel the previous night as Russia had emerged from the freezing waters of the Baltic Sea, shivering, sodden wet (of course) and close to getting hypothermia. Estonia, who had wondered where on earth his boss had disappeared to, had just waited at the harbour in Sweden's stolen/borrowed Volvo. Even he'd been shocked by Russia's appearance. Unfortunately the room they'd booked into had only one bed and neither wanted to sleep in the bath. Russia had assured Estonia that he wouldn't touch him and then... Estonia woke up with the biggest shock of his long life.

What Estonia, Russia and also Lativa, Prussia and Denmark didn't know was that by pure coincidence on the part of the author, they were all staying at the same motel...

Leningrad, Russia

"Your meeting is in about 30 minutes, Mrs Russia," Miss Ivanova told Katya, holding her briefcase out to her.

Katya looked her 'secretary' up and down – secretary being a very loose term for the girl. So far the only useful thing the girl had done was answer the telephone and made a lovely sunflower arrangement on Vanya's desk, she was also good at manicures and Katya's nails hadn't looked so good since she'd lived with Poland. The girl couldn't type never mind use Estonia's computer, made awful coffee and had covered the desk and computer in promotional logo bugs which all had 'KGB' incongruously on the ribbons.

Half an hour later...

The dozen or so men sat around the highly polished table, some were in suits, some in KGB or Red Army uniform, all were remarkably relaxed. There was a holiday atmosphere, one was sat reading Pravda, two were chatting about their respective wives and children, another was eating the biscuits from the centre of the table, two others were dozing. This was wonderful they'd all agreed, their Nation, the feared, intimidating General Ivan Braginski was 'taking time out' and his sister – they'd all found this funny – had taken temporary control.

The door was flung open and Katya strode in – resplendent in Red Army Major uniform, her WWI and WWII medals clinking.

"Right, gentlemen, let's get started shall we?" she said.

They all glanced at one another, this was going to be a walk in the park.

The author is unsure which park they were thinking of, but it was certainly no 'walk'.

Although Katya was outranked officially by almost everyone present, she began issuing orders.

"You!"

"Me?" a KGB General looked up confused, he was unused to anyone pointing at him, not unless they wanted a holiday in Siberia.

"Yes, you. Do that top button up."

The General was about to argue, but saw the look in her eyes. If Braginski was intimidating, Miss Braginskaya was even more so.

"You! Do that tie up. Get your feet off the table. What a disgrace! I've never seen such a bunch of wastrels, scruffy, slack-jawed individuals."

The men – all representing the top echelons of the Government, the security services and the armed forces – looked around at each other sheepishly.

"And you!" Katya pointed at a Red Army officer who was trying to hide under the table.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Go and get me a skinny latte and a chocolate donut."

"But I'm Marshall Pasternak!"

"I don't care if you're God, you can get me a coffee."

The Marshall – who was actually the Commanding Officer of six Red Army divisions and was used to be referred to as 'God' by his underlings – was about to slouch out but was stopped by Ukraine, "Here's 20 rubles, you can keep the change and get yourself some sweets."

In a lay-by outside Tallinn, Estonia, in a VW campervan with a psychedelic paint job (the type of paint job that Prussia wished he had on his awesome van, but didn't), were two men of East European descent, two Swedish girls and one Micro-nation.

"Hey this is great!" Peter (for it was he) yelled. "This is way better than school!"

"More sausages, Peter?"

"Okay."

"So, you want to come with us? Are you sure? It's tough work and we don't earn much."

"Oh yes please. Those jerks don't care about me."

"Your home life sounds awful..." one of the girls said, stroking his hair, "I don't know why you didn't run away before."

"It was awful..." Peter said in between bites, "They used to make me work, make me chop wood and my Uncle Den used to throw things at me."

"This Uncle Den person sounds like a horrid person."

"He was a bully."

"Well, I suppose you can stay with us for a while. But you'll have to pay your way." One of of the Ukrainians said.

Peter had gathered that his name was 'Viktor'. Viktor was nice, but very tall, very blond and had very dark blue eyes. He reminded Peter of Russia rather a lot and he felt that he'd met him somewhere before.

"What will I have to do?"

"Don't worry, in that school uniform you won't have to do very much... leave it to us," Viktor said n a rather obscure but quite menacing way. He then turned to his friends, "We can make lots of money out of him. We'll head for one of the big cities like Warsaw – that's where all the businessmen and women are..."

Peter's eyes widened and he looked around at his companions. So far they'd been very nice since he'd accidentally and sleepily got into their camper van. The girls were dressed very skimpily in short miniskirts, whilst the two men were dressed as if they belonged in the 1960s – flares, Afghan coats and huge felt hats. He still didn't know what they did for a living – their responses being very vague. "Entertainment," was all Viktor had told him.

Riga, Latvia

Poland was having make-up administered to his already gorgeous (his words) made-up visage. "Oh sweetie, I can do my own make-up," he said and crossed his fishnet stocking-clad legs demurely.

The make-up girl just smiled, "You have lovely bone structure, Miss Lovelace."

"I know honey, it's good genes," Poland battered his eyelashes at the girl. He'd shaved just that morning so that the foundation should just slide on.

"I've read all your books... they're so dreamy. I adored Alexander in Symphony of Love," the girl said.

'Lucinda Lovelace' struggled to think which book this was and what the plot was about... "Erm yes..."

"Can I have your autograph?"

"Of course, sweetie!" Lucinda/Poland said, utterly thrilled. No-one had ever asked for his autograph before – although he couldn't think why not.

"Oh thank you, and good luck in your interview."

"Oh, I don't need luck!"

Lithuania, who had been sat watching all this from a chair in the corner, shuddered. How on earth did Poland think he was going to get away with this? He had to admit he had chutzpah and sheer cheek but... this was going too far even for Poland, to impersonate a best-selling authoress (admittedly one who was publicity-shy and no-one had ever seen) live on day-time television.

"So, Miss Lovelace, we all absolutely adore your novels..."

"Oh thank you..."

"Can you tell us what your latest novel – Love and Bullets is about?"

"Well it's about to be published and it's a love story set in the War – the second world war..."

"Oh and who is the hero this time?" the interviewer said, a little sarcastically, Toris thought, "Alexander, Brett or some other musical aristocrat?"

The sarcasm was lost on 'Lucinda' though, "Oh no, he's called Ivan and he's a Red Army officer."

Toris shuddered and just hoped to any God of any religion who might be bored enough to be watching over them, that neither Latvia nor Russia was viewing this. Unfortunately, he was not that lucky...

Tallinn, Estonia

Latvia watched open-mouthed at the television – 'Good Morning Baltics'. She was sat in bed, drinking tea – which tasted metallic to her (nothing to do with the awfulness of the tea and its maker, Prussia, but more to do with pregnancy hormones) and ignoring the idiocy of her fellow occupants.

"That's Poland!" Denmark said, rather obviously.

"Hey, he looks good in a skirt!" Prussia said and then added, "Did I just say that out loud?"

Just down the corridor...

"That's Poland!" Russia exclaimed at the television, his mouth agape, sitting on the bed, pulling on his boots – which were still soaking and smelling of seaweed. In fact Russia smelt of seaweed, despite having had a shower.

Estonia blinked in astonishment. The poor Estonian was not used to seeing a fully-made up transvestite Polish man first thing in the morning in full Technicolor, he'd had enough surprises that morning to last him a lifetime.

Riga, Latvia

"...And you've sold over 2 million copies of your first four novels, what makes you think this will sell as well?"

"Because it's even more better."

Toris winced at the awful English.

Tallinn, Estonia

Estonia also winced. "Because it's better written..." he corrected and then said wonderingly, "Two million copies? After tax that could mean an income of ..."

"Poland's sold two million what?" Russia asked, completely oblivious.

"Lipsticks," Estonia answered for him. (Which would presumably mean that Poland was the most successful Avon Lady ever.)

Latvia held her head in her hands, her reputation for what it was worth, was shattered.

"Kesese, this is just classic."

"I know – so it was really Poland who wrote those shit books?"

"Shit books? Shit books?" Latvia looked at the Dane with murderous eyes.

"I know. I see you agree, right? I mean come on..."

"Kesese, and the gay hero was based on Woderwick..." Prussia finished for him. It is unknown why he suddenly began calling Austria the same bizarre nickname as the builders, perhaps there was a psychic connection, or there were other more devilish forces at work.

"So you read them, then?" Latvia asked.

"Well... no... I only heard what France said."

"Hmmm. Anyway the hero of my latest book is based on..."

But 'Lucinda Lovelace' aka Poland told them via Denmark's 'magic box', "...A tall, blond Red Army officer called Ivan."

Prussia almost split his sides laughing, "Kesesesesese... fat commie bastard in a romance novel," and then proceeded to fall off the bed and was wheezing on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks.

In Russia and Esty's room, Russia was in the bathroom and thankfully, did not hear this part of the interview. (It's doubtful whether Russia had made the connection that Poland was being Lucinda Lovelace.) However, 'Esty' did and just gaped at the screen.

Back in Riga, Latvia

The interviewer turned to the camera and said, "And that's all we have time for today... I want to say thank you to Lucinda Lovelace for coming in this morning..."

"Yo, no probs," Pol said.

"...And Miss Lovelace's gorgeous boyfriend..." here, the camera panned to Lithuania, sat in the wings looking momentarily confused and bedazzled.

In Tallinn, this caused a variety of responses.

"Hahaha! Look at Toris' face!" Den shouted, bouncing up and down on the bed, "I'd be bloody embarrassed as well, going out with a tranny!"

"Kesese!" Prussia was still trying to recover from the idea of Russia being the romantic hero in a novel.

Latvia just stared at the screen in horror.

Russia ran out of the bathroom when he heard the name 'Lucinda Lovelace', "Aija is on telly? Boyfriend? Do they mean me?" he stopped dead when he saw Toris' embarrassed and crimson-red face on the screen. "Toris! She ran away with Toris!" and then his huge army boot met the television screen with unfortunate consequences.

Estonia sighed, "Sir... Sir... Sir...I don't think... it wasn't..."

Riga, Latvia

"Do they mean me?" Toris asked 'Lucinda' as the soundman took the microphone from her/him.

"Of course they mean you... silly. You are gorgeous. But I wear a skirt better..." 'Lucinda' said, "Right, come on Liet, like, we're off to do a photo-shoot." Toris sighed, and played the dutiful boyfriend by carrying 'Lucinda/Pol's' handbag.

Tallinn, Estonia

"Sir, it was Pol and Lithuania... not Aija... I mean Latvia..." Estonia tried to explain to Russia before he smashed up the motel bedroom.

"She's run away with Poland as well?"

"Nooo," oh God how hard can this be? "She's not with them, nobody's with them."

"But they said Lucinda Lovelace's gorgeous boyfriend."

"Yes, that was Toris."

"So it was Toris... he will not be gorgeous when I get my hands on him."

"No, Poland is Lucinda Lovelace..."

"No it is Aija... she wrote that book... you mean it was Poland all the time?" Russia's brain went into over-drive, it was little Latvia he had slept with in Vienna, he knew that much and she had written that very steamy sex scene and then he blushed, remembering their very steamy sex scene.

It was another thirty minutes before Estonia finally hammered the facts through to Russia's brain and then the young Baltic told him, "Right, I'm going to go ring the credit card company, see if she's used the card since yesterday and find out where she is."

Standing in the musty lobby of the motel and using the exact phone that Latvia had used the night before, Estonia gave 'his' details to the credit card company and waited patiently. Then his mouth opened in amazement when he heard the young woman on the other end of the line tell him that the last time it was used was... at the motel he was now stood in. He slowly put the phone down and looked around... surely not? He and Russia had paid in cash last night so...

"Esty?" Denmark said softly, a little smile appearing on his face at the thought of the Baltic nation. "My Esty?" Denmark was at the other side of the musty, grubby motel lobby when he saw 'his' Baltic stood with a gormless expression on his face (Estonia – not Denmark, although the latter was gormless).

"Estoniaaaaaaaaa!" Denmark shouted, he promptly threw himself across the room and hugged the Baltic as if he had not seen him in several years "My little Baltic!"

Estonia winced and struggled in Denmark's arms, when oh when would he ever get away from being called someone's little Baltic?

Their reunion was short-lived, however, as Prussia, a look of pure horror on his face, grabbed Denmark and practically kicked the tall Dane out into the car park. Latvia was already climbing into the van, but was hauled back out, Prussia, his mind working on overdrive, opened the rear door for her and told her to get in.

"No way, I'm not sitting in the back..." she started to say.

Prussia was undeterred. He'd realised that if 'Esty' was around then so was Russia. If Latvia and Russia saw each other his kidnapping scheme would be over – Latvia would, no doubt in her highly volatile pregnant state run back to him and Russia would no doubt tear the place apart to get to her. In the back of the van she wouldn't be able to see him, or him her.

"It'll be more comfy for you..."

Denmark was about to protest as well, "But Estonia..."

"Shut up, Dude Den..." Prussia indicated the back of the van as they got in, and then whispered to Den, "Russia's after dude chick."

"I don't like sitting in the back here. It's not comfy at all..." Latvia was trying to get her gun out, but the van careered off, just as Esty and Russia ran out onto the car park.

"Was Latvia with them?" Russia asked the Baltic.

"I don't know, Sir, but Gilbert's driving that crappy white van."

(Gilbert would have been horrified at these words.)

"Get in. I'll drive..." Russia said with a horrid determined look on his face.

Before Esty had even got his seatbelt fastened and the door shut, Russia slammed his foot on the accelerator and they skidded out of the car park. Watching them, with interest and rather a lot of disgust was Romano. The Italian adjusted his moustache, sucked on his fortieth cigarette and followed at a safe distance.

"Sir? You said you thought you felt a hand push you in last night?"

"Da?" Russia said, keeping Prussia's white van in sight.

"Well, maybe someone is trying to kill you?" Estonia said, his eye on the rear view mirror, his eyes resting on a familiar looking man in a bad disguise following them in an Avis hire car.

"Me? Why me?" Russia said, genuinely perplexed. Why on earth would anyone want to assassinate him?

Estonia could think of lots of reasons why Russia would be on the 'Person Most Likely To Be Assassinated' List. But 'Esty' decided not to expand on his theory as Russia flung the car through a red light after Prussia, a horrid gleam in his eyes like a hunter tracking his prey.

Inside the van, Latvia was being flung about in the back and felt as if she were on a funfair ride, or alternatively in a washing machine on the spin cycle.

Her stomach, delicate anyway, was rolling again.

"Must you drive like you're in a car chase?" she asked, oblivious that in fact, they were.

"Ja!" Prussia answered. He thought that he was home and dry and was horrified when he looked in the mirror and saw Russia, resembling a demon from hell, gaining on them. Also, to Prussia's utter shame, in Sweden's totally un-awesome Volvo of all things.

"So how exactly do you get in the awesome trio? Do you have to pass a test or something?" Latvia asked, trying to keep a conversation going before she threw up.

Prussia growled at the mirror and to his horror he saw Russia growl back through his windscreen, the Volvo now edging up just a car behind them.

Den turned in his seat to talk to Latvia, "You have to be awesome!"

"Well, that doesn't tell me much..." Latvia said and then added, "Hey! Gilbert! Slow down!" as she was flung across the van. She gripped the bench running along one side of the back and tried to steady herself.

"My hair and his awesomeness..." Den said, indicating Gilbert.

"What about America? Isn't he in this trio thingy?"

"He had to have a note from Arthur to say he could join."

"Yeah and England turned up for the first meeting..." Gil added and then stuck his tongue out in the side mirror at Russia as the Volvo pulled up alongside him at a pedestrian crossing.

The two rivals revved their engines and glared daggers at each other.

"So what exactly do you do in this Awesome Trio thingy?"

"Well..." Den thought very hard, his face scrunched up, "My hair... erm... Gil drinks... and America yells a lot."

"And..." Latvia tried to help him.

"And sometimes Sweden lets me stay up late..."

"Woooo rock and roll..." Latvia was unimpressed.

"And we prank call Rod... and fat commie..."

Latvia shook her head, "Is that all? We do more than that - maybe Toris, Eduard and I should be the Awesome Trio... we're wilder than you and Vanya certainly is."

Prussia was so horrified at this, he stalled the engine as the lights turned green and Russia, his huge foot already on the gas, took off as if he were in the Grand Prix.

Prussia was about to storm after him and then remembered in time, that it was Russia who was supposed to be chasing him. So he stopped dead, watched with interest as a Police car, sirens blazing went screeching after Russia's car and did a swift U-turn and put his foot down to head back the way they had come.

"Kesese, fat commie bastard can't catch me..." he said. It was bringing back memories of his escape to the West, except then he'd been on an awesome motorbike.

"What did you say?" Latvia said.

"Nothing."

"Den?" she said.

"Ja?"

"Give me your hat."

"Why?"

"Because I need to puke in it."

Russia skidded to a stop when he realised Prussia wasn't behind him... bloody hell, where was that slippery bastard?

"Sir? I think the Police are after us..."

"I don't care," Russia said and threw the car into reverse gear and started reversing at top speed back down the carriageway.

Esty closed his eyes, "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod," he chanted.

"I have to get Prussia. Latvia is in that van, I know it. And she needs me..." Russia said.

Latvia needed something. It might not be a big Russian, more likely a sick-bag as she vomited into Den's hat.

"My hat!"

"Why did you give it her, dude Den?" Prussia asked, one eye in the mirror.

"She asked and..." Den was about to say he felt sorry for the girl, when Prussia gave a yell and slammed the van into a handbrake turn.

The 'awesome' van did a 360 degree turn with Prussia yelling "Awesome!", Den yelling "Copenhagen!" and Latvia retching in the back.

Russia slammed Sweden's car around and back into first gear (Berwald was going to be horrified when he got his car back with a shattered gearbox, Esty thought) and drove forward for the first time in two miles.

"Sir, we have to stop!"

"I'm not stopping for the Police!" Russia answered.

The Estonian Police had stopped dead (along with a mesmerised Romano) at one end of the carriageway as the Volvo drove over the central reservation and headed towards to Prussia's now stationary van.

"If Latvia is in that van and we carry on chasing them, she could get hurt!" Esty said and then added in a whisper, "... and I want to live to see Katya..."

Russia slammed his foot on the brake at this and they stopped dead, cars weaved past them tentatively and then, to Russia's horror, Prussia put his foot on the gas, waved at him with his middle finger and drove off down a side street.

Russia was about to give chase, but Estonia put a hand on his arm, "Sir... think of Latvia," as the Estonian traffic police pulled up alongside him and indicated that he was to turn off the engine and step out of the car.

Leningrad, Russia

The meeting had gone on for a mind-numbingly awful three hours and Ukraine had shown no signs of let-up. The officials had been allowed out to go to the toilet an hour ago but that had been it. For three hours Ukraine had quizzed them on economic, political, military and foreign policies pertaining to the Soviet Union and if they didn't answer straight away they got told off and instructed to go and stand in a corner of the room. At first, various officials had tried to rebel and complained that they were being treated as if they were naughty school children. This short-lived rebellion was crushed by Katya's sheer indomitable, school-ma'am-ish persona.

"Right, you can all leave now, gentlemen," she'd finally said. "But I hope next time you will have done your homework and when I ask you a question you can give me the correct answer." She fixed one or two officials with a 'look'.

It was decided afterwards – various telephone calls going backwards and forwards between the powers-that-be that the sooner Ivan Braginski was back from his 'holiday' the better and the KGB were instructed to 'get their arses in gear and find their truanting Nation'.

Author's Notes:

Was – what in German

Hvad – what in Danish

Promotional logo bugs were on everyone's desk in the 80s – I thought it would be hilarious if the KGB had some 'promotional gifts'

Chutzpah – a Hebrew word that means someone who has overstepped the boundaries

Good Morning Baltics – I made that up of course, I doubt there was a breakfast show called this in Soviet Union times.

Another long chapter – and I meant it to be a short one.

Next Chapter: A meeting of minds (but not all of them are sane), Russia makes his political allegiances clear, more Pru-Den-Lat