CT's Hetalia thread

[CT <3]

Of course, I can write Canada! Since I have an idea, I’ll have it done as soon as possible. I’ll just have to finish Lillian’s Prussia request first, then NA bros time!

Anyway, I’m really sorry about postponing the requests, but it is Chinese New Year today, which seemed like the perfect excuse to write this Allies/RoChu fic. So I did. XD

*Note* I tried a new writing style for this one (omniscient instead of one-person perspective) which is why it reads a little differently to the others. I’m not really sure that it worked very well, to be honest. *

A plan for disaster

(Crap titles are crap).

It was coming up to noon by the time the Allied Powers had settled down to begin their conference. As usual, America stood proudly at the head of the table; England poured himself a cup of tea while France watched on, slipping in a snide remark whenever he could; and Russia gazed dreamily at his ally and neighbour opposite, his secret desires and fantasies concealed within the depths of his mind.

China, however, was behaving differently. It was only a very minute change, a change which managed to escape his allies’ attention, but had they been watching closely enough, they might have noticed his reddened nose, congested breathing and the way he employed his sleeves to wipe his nose a little too often.

"'kay dudes, y'all listening?" America raised his voice for everyone to hear, "I just thought up a crazy-good new strategy that you're gonna love!"

England raised his eyebrows disdainfully, not even bothering to look at America as he added milk to his tea. "I see. Well, that's fine by me just as long as it doesn't involve unnecessarily reckless heroics, using us as backup or stuffing our faces with hamburgers." he raised the teacup and took a sip before continuing, "Which no doubt it will."

Twirling his hair between his fingers, France nodded. "For once, Angleterre, I agree with you completely."

"Hey! You guys can't criticise my plan before you've even heard it!" he gestured wildly to the blackboard behind him, which was adorned with sketchy instructions, "Clearly, the best way to infiltrate the Axis base is to attack at the entrance all at once! We'll all go stormin' in together, led by me of course, and-"

"Ahhh--hhiiahhh... Hiii- kHHhhyU!!" the interruption originated from further down the table, where China's nose was jerking and fluttering, "Hhhh... Tk'schouu!!!"

"Bless ya!"

"Bless you."

"A tes souhaits."

China nodded his thanks, pre-occupied with controlling the stream of mucus from his nose.

"Okay," America turned back to the board, "Now, where was I...?"

"Right about the narcissistic part..." England muttered under his breath.

"Oh yeah, we'll take 'em by surprise with an all-out attack!" America grinned widely then picked up a collection of notes lying on the desk, "Right, about everyone's roles. As you already know, I'll be the hero, but England, you can do the breakin' in with your totally sneaky spying stuff and France, I thought-"

He was cut off by China's sharp intake of breath further down the table, rapidly transforming itself into another release.

"T'kshyii! Hhhh-hyiaa... Hih- gkshhhH!! "

"Bless you."

"Woah, God bless again China, dude."

"A tes souhaits." France offered China a sympathetic little smile, "Ah, mon ami, you 'ave developed the most terrible sniffle, non?"

"It's just small cold, aru." China said, sniffing, "South Korea had it last week and it-ahhh- i-is dot- dot- Iy'tschh!!"

Caught off guard, his head pitched downwards and he sneezed into the open. The surface of the table became coated in a splattering of violent spray.

"China, are you aware of how completely unsanitary it is to sneeze openly like that." England said, making a face, "None of us want your germs."

"It is by- snffk- by cold, aru. I cad sdeeze however I like." He sniffled again with grating wetness and rubbed his nose thoroughly with an oversized sleeve. Tutting, England retrieved his handkerchief and tossed it across the table.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly clean." he said, noting the look of suspicion on his ally's face, "Not that it's for your benefit or anything, I just don't want to catch your bloody cold, that's all."

China picked up the handkerchief and unfolded it in his hands.

"Xie xie, England." he said, before burying his face within the folds and blowing. The honk that resulted was as soggy as it was loud; thick with what sounded like an entire noseful of expelled congestion. America giggled while France and England cringed, but Russia's eyes were wide with concern. Reaching over the table, he tugged at his ally's sleeve.

"Awww poor little China. Why don't you go home and do the resting, da?"

"Oui, I could always arrange to 'ave you looked after," France winked slyly and leaned forward, "If you know what I mean."

In an instant, England leapt to his feet. "For goodness sake, Frog, why must you always impose your pervertedness on everyone?! You'll just have to face it one day; nobody finds you attractive."

The slur was enough to enrage France too from his chair, blushing furiously.

"Shut it, black sheep of Europe!"

America slammed his fist on the table. "Dudes, this is not the time! Just sit down and listen to your roles already."

Still glaring at each other, France and England returned to their seats.

"Thank you!" America picked up his notes again and cleared his throat, "Right, I thought France could take care of Italy since they're pretty well-matched for each other, strength wise."

France let out a splutter of indignation, but he ignored it and continued delegating.

"China, I thought you could use your badass wok to attack Japan, if you're not too sick of course, and Russia- Russia, you even listening to me?"

The sound of his name jolted Russia's focus away from watching China's steadily twitching nose. "Sorry, were you saying something of the importance, America?"

"I knew it! You haven't heard any of my plans at all, have you?"

"Hmmm?" Russia looked thoughtful for a moment, then broke out into a wide smile, "No, I don't think I have!"

"Well, now's the time to listen up 'cause I'm giving you the most important job of 'em all. You're gonna be my bodyguard!"

"What?!"

"That's right!" America said with an overly-enthusiastic nod, "If I'm gonna be the hero, I've gotta have someone to take all the hits for me and you're-"

"K'kshiyuu!" once again, China's body jerked with the force of his interruption, completely failing to muffle his sneezes in England's handkerchief, "K'shhhyiii! Hih'tchyuuu!! Khh... K'CHIIIUUU!!"

America sighed in exasperation. "Dude, I know that you gotta sneeze when you gotta sneeze, but do you seriously have to interrupt my master plan every frickin' time?"

"It's lucky he is." England said, "That way, we can all see how ridiculous it is."

"What? You don't like my plan?" crestfallen, America looked desperately over his allies' faces, "But- but what's wrong with it?"

"Everything, that's what. There's no proper strategy at all, it'd never work in a million years and once again, you've made yourself centre of attention for no bloody reason at all!" he rose and snatched the piece of chalk from America's hand, "Look, here's what I think of your 'master plan'."

He scrawled a huge cross through the board, exaggerating the scratchy noise as much as possible. America huffed and folded his arms.

"Huh. Well I'd like to see you do a better job."

"Fine then, I will!" pushing him aside, England began to write down his own set of instructions on the clean side of the board, "Righto, firstly I reckon we ought to-"

"Oh mon Dieu, please do not let 'im come up with something!" France moaned, "If you want a perfect and creative plan, you should come to moi, of course. Whatever Angleterre invents will be so boring and unimaginative!"

With a growl of irritation, England whipped around and hurled the piece of chalk straight at France's forehead.

"This is a war not an art festival, you stupid foppish twit!"

"'ow dare you!" France practically leapt over the table in fury and flung his hands immediately around England's throat, "You've gone a step too far today, Angleterre!"

England returned the gesture with relish, almost choking his rival with the force of his death grip. "It's no less than you deserve, Frog!"

"Hey! Hey! Calm down, you guys!"

"...stuffy, plain, idiotic-"

"...cowardly, narcissistic, wine-drinking-"

"Dudes, hello? We're in the middle of a conference here!"

While they feuded, Russia watched over China as he sat, shivering and groaning in his chair. His sniffles were becoming more plaintive by the second and his nose was running deviously, despite his best efforts to stem the flow. As another bought of tickles overcame him, he raised the sodden handkerchief to his face.

"T'shyaaiii!! T'shyy- IUUUU!!"

Determinedly, Russia got to his feet and strode over to his neighbour, scooping his fragile body up in his arms.

"Aiya!" China let out a gasp in shock, "Russia, what are you doi'g, aru?!"

"Shhh, shhh my little China. I will be taking the care of you now, da?"

Unnoticed by the rest of their allies, he carried China out of the conference room, bridal-style.

China sniffled again and struggled in vain to free himself. "Russia, put me down, aru! I do not understand where you are taki'g be."

"I'm taking you home, of course. You should not be coming the meeting at all with the sniffles."

"Oh." subconciously, he clung onto his ally a little tighter, "Russia, -hiiahh- th-thank y- Y'kshhiiuu!"

With no other option, he sneezed into Russia's chest, spraying snot uncontrollably over his uniform. Russia, however, didn't seem to mind at all.

"Bood' zdorov." leaning down, he brushed his lips softly against China's hair, "Now you can relax, da? I've got you."

"Al-alright." China sighed and settled comfortably into his ally's arms.

(End)

[cakeface33]

Cute,very adorable. I guess China was too tired to fight with Russia.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Squeeeeeee, this was so cuuuuute! The love of Mother Russia never fails. The same for the love we give to your drabbies!

[Not_Telling]

GOTT, that was cute. Oh my GOTT that was so freakin ADORABLE. I love the allies! And that was wonderful

[MidnightCatK]

Brilliant as always! You're writing is so perfectly descriptive and in character that it's so easy to imagine all these drabbles being in an episode (I really wish they were!) The humor always makes them 10x better too! When France and Britain were going back and forth I was trying so hard not to laugh for fear of waking up my mother!!! I can't wait to see what you have next for us!

[lillian]

Angst is always wonderful <3 I can't wait~

[cupkake]

I looooove the way you write these, it always feel like I'm watching a real episode (in my dreams) of Hetalia. You just get the dialogue down so good. If it's not too much to ask, can I request Spain with kind of a messy cold who insists he can still function normally and like do laundry and chores and stuff even though he can't stop sneezing over everything (bonus points if Lovi gets hit ) and then Lovi gets really mad and Spain feels bad so Lovi cleans him up and takes care of him?

[CT <3]

@cupcake

Thank you! And I’m really glad you requested Spamano because I’ve been wanting to write some all week. You may have to wait a little bit, though, sorry about that. I’ve got Canada to write first and I’d also like to do a little something of my own for Valentine’s day. But I’ll do your request as soon as I can!

On another note, sorry this fic took so long! I wanted to be pleased with a fic for once in my life so I spent a little longer than usual trying to perfect it. This is Lillian’s request for Prussia during the Cold War. This is a lot more serious and bleak than a lot of other things I’ve written.

*Note* I didn’t intend for this to be PruHun or Germancest, but I suppose you can read it like that if you really must.

On the Other Side

It shouldn't have been anything more than a little sniffle. If he'd contracted it any other time, he might have had a runny nose for a week or so, before being restored to full and easy awesomeness. So why was it then, that after a whole year- or could it even be two?- of suffering and snivelling did Prussia still feel like his body was being invaded? Every day, his condition was just the same; raging fever, nose bunged up so much it was like corks had been shoved inside, relentless fits of sneezing practically every time he drew breath... why the fuck wasn't his immune system working properly anymore?

'You know why.' a little voice sneered inside his head, 'It's because you're alone. It's because he's not there to take care of you anymore.'

Prussia sniffled coarsely and gave himself a shake. Best to put that out of mind now. Moscow had to be about the worst place in the world to lament about him, especially considering that he'd been called over to report before the Soviet Union. He had no idea how Russia or Belarus or Ukraine or any of the others would react if they discovered that he was ill, but he didn't fancy taking the chance.

He took a swig from the bottle resting on the conference table and shuddered. Not even beer felt good against a sandpapered throat, particularly not this cheap, Russian imitation.

"Alright," he said croakily, "What did you call be over here for? Sir?"

Verdammt, he always forgot that last bit. Thankfully, apart from Belarus' glare, the stumble went unnoticed.

"Well, it is always good to be having my adorable little Eastern Block nations to stay." Russia said with that wide smile that had always freaked Prussia out, "It is important for you to be visiting Moscow often. Such great capital, da?"

"Yeah, 'course it is." 'Almost as great a capital as Berlin. Until you decided to cut it in half.'

Belarus cleared her throat. "More importantly, my brother is wanting to do the check up on you. To make sure you are still complying with his orders."

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Firstly, how are your citizens doing?" Russia asked, "They have stopped the trying to get into West now?"

"Oh defidately. They'll never go back to that side." 'It's a bit difficult now since you've decided to place a fucking wall in the way, isn't it?'

"And what about you? How has your health been recently?"

"Fide, fide." said Prussia, twiddling his thumbs, "Econoby's practically soari'g. Yep, I'b in top co'dition right dow."

But even as he said it, he could feel the strain of another ruthless tickle tingling in his nostrils. Teasing to pull loose.

"Huh-huh-huhhh..." he lowered his head and pinched his nose with a hand, suppressing to the best of his ability, "Hx'mmpff! G'kk -shhtpfff!"

"East Germany!" Russia said in alarm, "Are you alright?"

'East Germany'. Gott, how he hated that name. It was like his whole empire's history had been lost within those four syllables alone, reducing him to nothing more than a logistically convenient version of his brother.

"Yeah, I'b good." he wiped his streaming nose surreptitiously, "Just- just got an itch on the tip of by- by-- h'ppfff-- my nose, that's all."

Across the table, Lithuania caught his eye and mouthed a 'bless you' with a sympathetic smile. Prussia nodded coldly in response. Lithuania might think he understood what he was going through, but as long as he still had Poland's hand to hold when Russia wasn't looking, he couldn't have any idea what the Iron Curtain was doing to him.

Russia nodded. "Mmmm, that is sounding annoying. Now, I am going to ask you the question of the most importance." his expression noticeably hardened, and his voice was tinted with threat, "Have you been seeing West Germany at all?"

The mention of his brother's name alone was enough to make Prussia's insides jolt. Mostly with bitter longing. Looking his superior straight in the eye, he answered honestly for the first time.

"No. I haved't seen him sidce we were- were-" he paused to muffle a thick cough into his fist, "Sidce we were sepearted at the end of the war."

Russia relaxed instantly. "Good. I am so glad to hear that. And it would be better if it stayed that way too, da?"

All Prussia's senses were screaming in protest at those words, screaming at him to jump up and slam his fist into Russia's face. Instead, he nodded meekly.

He waited in his chair while Russia and the rest of the Soviet Union grouped together and conversed in hushed voices. Finally, after a minute or two, Belarus turned back to him.

"You can be going now, East Germany. Remember, brother has invited you for a tour in two days’ time, so you can stay in the flat until then." She tossed a key over the table and Prussia pocketed it, before standing up.

"Alright, th-thanks. Hhuhhh-- I'll see you thhh- then." Oh Gott, did his sinuses really have to be burning again? Hot tears welled in the corners of his eyes and he started to walk away, clamping his hand over his nose, "E'tschhhh! Hrk’schhpfff! Nt'xtchhppfff!"

"East Germany?"

He turned back at the door at Russia's call.

"Yes? Sir?"

"Get better soon, da? My cute little minions cannot be catching the colds."

Prussia wandered back through the Moscow streets alone, his head huddled into his chest against the cold. By the time he reached the apartments and climbed the flight of stairs to the Easten Block flat, he was so drained that he couldn't even hold the key steady. His hands jittered as he fitted it into the lock.

"Hhhhh-- huhhhhh..." Prussia's breath shuddered to the call of a building tickle. He stopped to let the sneezes lurch out in a much-needed unrestrained release, "Ha'ggkkSHHHUH! ET'SCHhhuhhh! Hweh... HW'ETSCHHIEWEYY!!"

Prussia groaned and wheezed, running a sleeve across his face. What the hell was wrong with him recently? Sneezing used to give him such a thrill; now it just left his head spinning and his throat sore. Grimacing, he unlocked the door and let himself in.

The Eastern Block flat was built to be spacious- after all, it needed to house eight nations when they all came together for conferences- but as he was sure that nobody else was staying there right now, the sparseness only increased Prussia's sense of solitude. Worse still, Russia had never thought to install a central heating system. The temperature was barely above what it was outside. He shuffled into the lounge, sniffling wetly, and slumped down on the sofa; a miserable and shivering wreck. Oh Gott, if West could see him right now...

Prussia held his head in his hands and began to laugh. It started off as simple schoolgirl giggling but upgraded within half a minute into deep choking guffaws which tore through his chest like daggers. Once they'd started, it was impossible to stop them bursting out so he sat there alone, drowning in fake mirth for an eternity or more.

He wasn't quite sure exactly when the laughs transformed themselves into sobs, but there were tears snaking down his face before he was even aware of them. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for the weeping to gradually change to snuffling, then gulps. His eyes were still gushing full-blast and his nose was running much worse than before but he couldn't even summon the motivation to wipe them. 'West wouldn't like that,' he thought, 'He always got annoyed about that kind of thing, even when he was just a kid.' Unbidden, a sudden recollection leapt into his mind.

"Ehhhh-- heehhhh... Hek'tschhHHOUU!" Prussia's head jerked forwards as he finally stumbled through the door, "Hah'GSSSHHUHKK!!"

"Gesundheit." came the call from the other room.

Prussia closed the door behind him. "Hey, West!" He eased off his boots and military jacket, sniffing the air with approval. Even through the congestion, his nose caught the scent of something very promising indeed- something hot, meaty and delicious. Licking his lips, he made his way into the kitchen. His brother was awaiting him there, sitting behind a well-laden table and trying not to look pleased with himself.

"West!" Prussia cried, "You cooked wurst for be?"

"Of course I did, bruder. I thought you'd need your favourite food after a hard day fighting." he waited for Prussia to sit down and offered him the plate of sausages, "How did the battle go?"

"Awesobely. I totally bossed it, as al-alwa..." he paused and flicked his head aside as the tickle teetered over the edge, "Hah'USSCHHOUHH!! T'SCHHHHOEEY!"

"Gesundheit."

"Dadke." his top lip felt a little wet so he sniffled the mess back up, "Shame I had to- snnnfk- catch this stupid cold. snnfff" He reached out for a wust, but to his surprise his brother held the plate away.

"Nein. Wipe your nose first."

"What?!" Prussia stared at him, incredulous, "You've got to be- snnnffk -kidding, right?"

But Germany simply shook his head. "I don't think it’s very hygienic to have a runny nose at the dinner table."

"Looks like someone's been spendi'g too much tibe around- snnff- around Specs." Prussia said with a wink, "Cobe on, let be have one."

"Bruder... I mean it."

His little face was the picture of sobriety; stern beyond his years and oh-so-serious. For once in his life, Prussia decided to do as he was told.

"Fine, you win." leaving the table, he went over to hunt out some tissues from the cupboards, chuckling to himself, "I'll wipe it."

The sweetness of the memory was mocking enough to send late sob racking through his body.

"Prussia?"

It was only hearing that name, his real name, which gave him the strength to raise his head. To his shock, Hungary was standing by the side of the sofa, wearing the same expression as someone who had just come across a wounded dragon might.

"W-why are you crying?"

Shit. He hadn't realised that anyone else was staying here right now, least of all her. Shit shit shit. Prussia scrubbed his face furiously with the cuff of his shirt.

"Not crying. It's just, snfff, by eyes g-get k-kiiiii- kind of -snnffff- watery sobetibes 'cause- ahhuhhh 'c-cause I'b an al- albi- AHK'TCSHHOU!"

The sneeze was raw and throaty, giving his chest another painful jerk. Hungary cringed.

"Egészségedre. Don't tell me you've gotten yourself ill as well."

"'Course dot." he swiped under his nostrils with the back of his hand, wincing when it came away wet and sticky, "The awesobe Prussia doesd't catch colds."

"But you're shivering!" frowning, she unbuttoned her threadbare coat and draped it over his shoulders like a blanket. His fingertips clutched around the edges, instinctively drawing it in more snugly. He knew that he ought to shrug it off for pride's sake, but right now comfort topped dignity on the list of his priorities. Satisfied, Hungary settled down on the other side of the sofa.

"Now, are you going to tell me what the matter is?"

"What d'you mean? Snnnffffk. Nothing's the ma-"

"Prussia, I'm not stupid."

There was a swooping finality in her tone; the same one she used when telling him to back off Austria's territory. Thankfully, he was spared from defeat by the potent re-ignition of the tickle in his sinuses.

"Huhhhh... huh’kppffff!" he stifled the sneeze into his hand, "T'schhhfff! Hx'mppfff!"

"Egészségedre." Hungary said, eyebrows raised, "You know, if someone was crying in front of me... or-or had a cold or something, well, they'd be perfectly welcome to use the handkerchief in my coat pocket."

Taking the hint, Prussia found the right pocket and pulled her handkerchief out. It was a little tattered with age and had prissy, suspiciously Austrian-looking lace rimming the edges, but at least it was something. He threw it open over his nose and blew with a booming honk, switching nostrils aggressively to clear the congestion. Hungary snickered at the noise.

"My God, you Germanics and your noses! I'm starting to think you must all have trumpets hidden away in there or something."

In spite of himself, Prussia found a smile creeping onto his face. 'Gott, she's so right.' He twisted the damp handkerchief between his fingers, letting another memory come flooding back.

"T'schHIEew! Hh... hk'tschhhh! Hep'chhUHHH! "

"Alright, alright." Prussia rubbed his brother's back soothingly as he held him against his chest, "Let 'em all out."

Germany responded with more breathless tensing, before collapsing into his shoulder again. "Hh'kSCHHOU!"

The side of his head smacked against Prussia's and he winced slightly. Really, his brother was getting too big to cuddle now; more like a pre-teen than a child. And nothing could prove that point more than the development of his sneezes.

"Gesundheit." he kissed the top of Germany's head, "They're getting louder, you know. I'm so glad."

"Please dod't talk about it." his brother replied, his embarrassment masked slightly by the stuffiness of his voice.

"Don't be shy, West; you're a Germanic! You should be sneezing loud and proud." he let Germany slip off sore legs gratefully and onto the mattress, "Now, d'you need a tissue?"

Germany nodded, and Prussia dug a couple out of his pocket to hand over. Deciding to spare him the humiliation, he averted his eyes while his brother unfolded the tissues carefully and buried his face inside. The blows started off softly, with all the restraint that he could manage, but as he continued they increased in length and volume; finally exploding into a surprisingly noisy, wet honk at the end. Turing back, Prussia accepted the soiled tissues back and crossed the room to put them in them in the bin. When he returned, his brother's eyes were wide with an apparent mixture of shock and horror.

"Bruder, wh-what was that noise I made? It sounded... so rude."

Prussia grinned widely. "First your sneezes, now your blowing too!" he knelt down by the bed and ruffled his brother's hair, "You really are growing up, aren't you?"

A wave of nostalgia swept over him and he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. ‘Still better than crying again, though.’

"Oh West..." he muttered to himself

"What was that?"

He cupped his hands over his face to hide his unawesome emotions. "It's just... I really miss West. I thought I'd never forgive him after the end of the war but he's still my brother. I love him so much it hurts." another disobedient teardrop snuck out of the corner of

his eye and he swiped it away, "Every day, when I'm forced to see that fucking curtain and that fucking wall... I feel like they're laughing at me."

Hungary remained silent for a moment. Then, she spoke.

"Me too." her voice was hoarse with yearning and not quite steady.

"What d'you mean? You're not that close to him. Why would it be affecting you?

For the first time since he'd seen her, a spark of Hungary's old fury seemed to reappear in her eyes.

"It might have slipped your mind, Prussia, but my Austria is on the other side of 'that fucking curtain' too." she snapped, "And believe me, I miss him just as much as you miss your brother."

"Oh right. Specs. Yeah." now he came to think of it, he'd heard a lot of rumours and stories about Hungary recently; mostly how she still slammed her frying pan across the metal of the fence, screaming Austria's name. A few years ago, she'd even slapped Russia in the face and demanded her freedom... the scars and bruises she'd won in return were still visible today. And, if Poland was to be believed, sometimes she stole out in the dead of night to smuggle her refugees to the other side.

"But... you're still in contact with him, aren't you?" Prussia asked.

"Well, he sends me letters to let me know how my people are doing and everything." She sighed wistfully, "But it's no substitute for actually seeing him."

"Yeah, I can imagine." a thought struck him suddenly, "Hungary; if he sends you letters... does he ever talk about West?"

"Occasionally, yes. And you don't need to worry; he's fine. More than fine actually," she smiled, "He's finally decided to hook up with Italy!"

"Seriously?!" Prussia couldn't help feeling a swell of pride. He'd known about his brother's crush on the cute pasta-lover for years, and it was great to know that he'd finally decided to man up and act upon it. "Gott, I wish I could have seen that."

"I know! They make such an adorable couple together."

"Yeah," Prussia looked down again, the same lost, hollow feeling sneaking back, "This just proves it, doesn't it? West's doing just fine on his own."

"Oh Prussia..." Hungary gave him a look like something was breaking inside her, "Would you- would you, um," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "Would you like a hug?"

That had to be about the most ridiculous, sentimental question he had ever heard. The only acceptable answer to something as stupid as that was to refuse immediately and mock Hungary for the rest of the day for her sheer unawesomeness. Only...

"Yeah." he found himself croaking, "Yeah, I would."

Hungary accepted the invitation, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling him in close. He hesitated for a moment then snuggled in and rested his head against her shoulder despondently. A trickle of fresh tears began to leak out, staining the soft cloth of Hungary's shirt, but he'd made his peace with them by then. Noticing, Hungary moved her hand down to his and coaxed out the handkerchief. She dabbed at his dampened cheeks and the wetness under his nose.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," she murmured in her soothing, lyrical voice, "It's all going to be alright."

They sat like that together for some time, neither wanting to let the other go. The warmth of the contact brought a kind of reassurance which Prussia couldn't remember feeling for a long time. It was as if all his chills and anxiety were melting away into nothingness and he'd be safe and protected forever.

"Huuuhhhh-- hahhhh..." a sharp tickle returned to his nose, breaking the connection. As his head titlted back, Hungary was there, holding the handkerchief over his nose, "Ha-htcshHHUH! T'SCHHOUhggk!"

He groaned, letting Hungary wipe his nose and toss the handkerchief down onto his lap. They re-settled back into their position, and Prussia closed his eyes.

"I bet we could do it." Hungary whispered into his hair, "The two of us together, we'd be unstoppable."

"Do what?"

"Break through the Iron Curtain. I really think we could manage it. Then- then I could see my Austria again, and you could find your brother."

Prussia sniffled gruffly before replying. "What's the point? West's got it all- health, stability, a great relationship. He doesn't need me anymore."

"Since when did you start being so self-deprecating?"

"Since I stopped feeling awesome."

"Well, don't think like that. Of course he still needs his big brother." she gave him a comforting little squeeze, "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking about you right now."

The thought was so absurd that it was both amusing and bitterly painful to contemplate. Prussia wasn't sure whether start laughing or completely break down again and compromised by clinging onto Hungary tighter.

"Anyway," she continued, "Whether you're with me or not, I'm still going to do it one day. You'll see."

Prussia snorted. "Good luck with that. But I don't think the Curtain is ever going to fall."

"It will. Soon it will, I promise." she said the words with a sincerity that was impossible to mistrust. "And then maybe we'll have our old, awesome Prussia back again"

(End)

Okay, I feel like I need to explain myself a little bit after this one. If you don’t want historical context, just skip through the rest of this.

Basically, this is probably set in the late 70s to early 80s, when countries like East Germany and Hungary were under the control of the Soviet Union and separated from their Western neighbours by a metaphorical Iron Curtain (my headcanon is that it’s literal for Hetalia). I know I villainised Russia a lot in this, and honestly, I don’t think they were evil at all. It’s just that this is from Prussia’s perspective, and East Germany probably got the worst deal out of anyone from the Cold War.

As mentioned in the fic, Hungary had an uprising in 1956. It failed, and about 200,000 refugees fled into Austria. Although Russia didn’t approve at all and it was an incredibly risky thing to do, not to mention a drain on their economy, the Austrian government welcomed them with open arms.

The thing that Hungary talked about at the end, about breaking through the Iron Curtain, that actually happened too in 1989. A picnic was organised at the Austro-Hungarian border and representatives from each country came along to open the gates and symbolically cut the wire fence separating the countries. The Hungarian Government also sent messages into East Germany, advertising the picnic as a means to get into the West. And, of course, the Berlin Wall was torn down about a year later, partly because it was pointless since East Germans could just get into West Germany via Hungary and Austria. So happy ending for them all and tearful reunion! Yay!

Sorry if that was too historical. I’m just really interested in the Cold War. I doubt many other fics that I write will have any context behind them.

[cakeface33]

This is truly one of your greatest fics in the entire thread. You utilized a great way to make history come alive that Hetalia couldn't do if they tried since most of their history lessons are snippets of text on screen for five seconds. Now obviously Hetalia can't replace a history textbook,but this was simply...it;the thing that could inspire people to either get into history,Hetalia or both. Truly a grand fic.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

This is truly one of your greatest fics in the entire thread. You utilized a great way to make history come alive that Hetalia couldn't do if they tried since most of their history lessons are snippets of text on screen for five seconds. Now obviously Hetalia can't replace a history textbook,but this was simply...it;the thing that could inspire people to either get into history,Hetalia or both. Truly a grand fic.

I couldn't agree more with you on that. And this drabble is really perfect, and the idea of more like this would be cool. Bravo, I can't wait for more to come!

[Not_Telling]

WHAT THEY SAID! WHAT THEY SAID!

Gott, this was perfect! So angsty and wahhhhhh POOR PRUSSIA

They should use Hetalia for history class, honestly...

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

WHAT THEY SAID! WHAT THEY SAID!

Gott, this was perfect! So angsty and wahhhhhh POOR PRUSSIA

They should use Hetalia for history class, honestly...

YES! Full support for that idea!

[peppercat]

And this is why I learn more on the internet than I do at school.

[cupkake]

Once again, you did a wonderful job! I really wanted to give Prussia a hug, and the historical bit at the end made me feel warm inside because it was like one of those heartwarming epilogues. And I don't mind the wait, I'm just glad you're going to write it! Take as long as you need

[Maus_17]

Oh goodness gracious alive, my phone took off the notifications for this thread and i was so ANGRY..

BECAUSE THIS IS SO ASDFGHJKL HAAAAAHHHHHH....I adored the one with Romano and Spain, and especially the one about Prussia getting separated from Germany, and oh my gosh...*sobs happily* this was just so amazing! You're so awesome and great and GHHH! *flops to the floor* i love it so much!

[CT <3]

Awww, thanks so much for those last comments, everyone! It’s really nice to know that my efforts were appreciated. On another note, since you seemed to like this one, it’s a possibility that I could do more historical fics in the future. I don’t have any ideas at the moment (unless I do one based on the reunion information in the epilogue) but feel free to request something historical if you like! I’d probably be best with European History (as I am European) but with research I reckon I could write pretty much anything. Just give me a shout!

Now, I’d like to start with an apology for delaying the Canada request once again. It is coming next, I promise! Please don’t kill me! I just wanted to write something romantic for Valentine’s Day and since I was unable to choose just one pairing, I wrote these four short fics.

*Warning* One of these (well, all of them really, but especially the first one) is rather… explicit. It is only implied and off-screen so it should be alright, but I just thought I’d give you a heads-up.

Shower Sniffles

Pairing: Norway x Denmark (with a side-order of Iceland).

Iceland sighed as he turned another page of his book, trying in vain to concentrate. It had been like this for almost half an hour now, and it was maddening. He realised that his brother was in love with that beer-guzzling, axe-wielding maniac (although he couldn't fathom quite why) and if they wanted to spend their Valentine's evening taking a shower together in the dark... well, that was fine with him. What he couldn't understand was why they had to be so loud about it.

To be fair, though, it was only one voice that he could hear moaning and screaming and begging for more.

"Den, shut up!" he shouted over the noise, "I can't even hear myself think!"

"Sorry!" came the cheerful apology, before the speaker broke out into another fit of ecstasy, "Oh God, keep going! Keep go- YEAH!!"

That did it. Snapping his book shut, Iceland stormed over to the bathroom door. He could hear gushing water inside, completely failing to drown out the grind of bodies and groans of pleasure. At his wits end, he reached up to the light switch on the wall and flicked it on. Light immediately spilled out from under the crack of the bathroom door.

"Hey, what the hell was that for?!" Denmark cried indignantly, "We were only- Woah, you alright there, Norgie?"

There was the sound hesitant sniffling; breathy and straining. Iceland smirked as he counted down the seconds, waiting for the inevitable. Five, four, three, two, one-

"Ip'shhoo! 'Kshhoo! Khhh... K'shhhhhk!"

Right on cue, his brother's sneezes came, as husky and erratic as ever. Denmark barked a laugh of surprise.

"Haha, prosit! Photic reflex, right?"

There wasn't even time for Norway to snap a reply before the burden returned to haunt him.

"Huhhh... Hh'ikichho! Ih'shhoo!"

"Prosi-"

"Kihhh... IT'SSHHHO!"

Iceland held back a snigger. He knew from experince how messy Norway's sneezes could be, especially the photic ones. He wouldn't have been surprised if Denmark's whole chest was covered in spray now. To his horror, though, his brother's boyfriend didn't yelp in disgust, but gave a contented sigh instead.

"Oh my God, Norge, bless you. Bless you and those beautiful little hisses."

There was a shuffling of feet, followed by the distinct sound of a deep, sloppy kiss.

"What?!" Iceland cried, outraged, "That was to get you two to stop! It wasn't supposed to turn you on more, Den!"

"Yeah, well, it did." Denmark called back, "So thanks for that, Icey! I owe you one."

Norway's typical grumble was just about audible over the rush of water.

"Hrrrrmmph."

(End)

A Husband’s Duty

Pairing: Sweden x Finland

"Hey, Sve? Wake up."

For what must have been about the fifth time that evening, Sweden jolted awake from his doze. He yawned and shifted his position under the water, pulling his afflicted lover closer to his body. Finland nuzzled his head into Sweden's bare chest, sniffing slightly.

"You were goi'g to fall asleep agaid."

"Yeah. Hard not t'."

Hot steam swirled around the bathroom; fogging up his head just as much as the insides of his glasses. To be honest, Sweden wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep with Finland among the suds and bubbles, but as a loyal husband, there was a more important matter he had to attend to tonight. He brought his head down to kiss Finland's red-raw nose lightly.

"How's y' congestion?"

"A bit better. The bath's really helpi'g, I thidk."

"Good." He rubbed his hands up and down Finland's arms in case he began shivering again. "'M glad."

With his lover content, Sweden settled back into his steamy paradise once more and let his eyes droop. It was only a minute, however, before he felt Finland shift in discomfort against him, his slight frame trembling.

"Hh-haahhhh... ehhaaahhhhh..."

Sweden scrambled for a flannel under the water, hastily wringing it out before holding it under Finland's quivering nose.

"Let 'em out, Fin."

"Hihhh'CHOOoo! Itch'IEEWWW! HAPSHOO! Ughhh..." Finland screwed up his face and gave a pained sniffle.

"Prosit." He rinsed out the sodden flannel in the water and hung it over the side of the bath, easily within reach, "Y' 'kay?"

"I'm fine." Finland sighed, "It just hurts, that's all."

"I know. Won't last long, though."

"I suppose that's true. Sve, I- I--" his face froze suddenly in position; eyes snapping shut, eyebrows furrowing and his mouth tilting open slightly. "Hihhhh... IPSHHUUHHhh!"

Sweden reached hurriedly for the flannel again and replaced it over his lover's nose just as another bout jerked out.

"KUSHhhu! It'SHIIUhhh! Hep'SHHIIIOO!!"

"Prosit." Sweden massaged his back with his other hand while he kept the flannel in position, "Now blow."

Finland obeyed, releasing several stuffy gurgles into the cloth. Sweden waited until he was sure he had finished before dabbing his nose as gently as possible.

"Sve, I'b so sorry." Finland whispered.

"What f'?"

"For catching a cold on Valentine's Day. It must be so horrible for you- to have to take care of me."

"Not horrible at all." he collected his lover back into his arms and planted a tender kiss on his lips, "It's m’ duty."

(End)

Erogenous Attack

Pairing: Monaco x Seborga (There were loads of couples that I could have used for this idea, but I really wanted to give these two a shot. They’re probably my favourite rare pair, and I don’t think either of them have appeared on the forum before. Anyone else ship them? No? Just me then )

Monaco sat up against the pillows and pulled off her silk eye mask in defeat. It was no use; siestas just weren't her thing at all. How exactly Seborga managed to take one every single day, she did not know, but it must be something one got used to gradually. Perhaps she would too, given time. Slipping her glasses back on, she reached for the deck of cards on her bedside table and began dealing them out into piles. For the timebeing, she would just have to occupy herself whenever her boyfriend observed this uncustomary, Italian practice.

Halfway through her second round of solitaire, a gentle snore caught her attention. Seborga had rolled over in his sleep, now facing her side of the bed. Monaco paused the game and surveyed her boyfriend's countenance with a sigh. She'd always thought him handsome, and never more so than in slumber. His mouth hung slightly ajar, the same way it did whenever he was about to kiss her, his rust-coloured hair flopped over his face with such a charming carelessness and his chest rose and fell like a steady tide in time with his breathing. She noticed how his adorable curl too seemed to mimic the motion; uncurling when he drew breath, then crumpling back again with the exhalation.

Absent-mindedly, she reached out to stroke it and teased the hair between her fingers. Seborga gave a sudden jerk of irritation at the touch. Monaco raised her eyebrows and pulled at the curl a little harder.

"Hhhh-- hehhehhhh--" still asleep, her boyfriend squirmed in discomfort, his nose twitching continuously like a rabbit's. She gave his hair yet another, even sharper pull and his eyes finally flickered open, his breath wavering towards breaking point. He managed to catch her eye questioningly for a second before the urge overwhelmed him and his head lurched forwards.

"Hehhh... Hetchhiiii! K'ssshhhewww!! Heh...Hweshoooo!!" Seborga hesitated, his head titled back and the desperate, scrunched-up pre-sneeze expression fixed on his face, "Heh...hehshiiii!! K'achhooo!"

"A tes souhaits." Monaco said and bent down to kiss his forehead, "My word, I 'ave never seen you sneeze so violently before!"

Seborga looked up at her with forlorn green eyes. "Si, i-it's beca- because of-" his attempt to fight another outburst proved unsuccessful and another sneeze spluttered out, "ISHIIIEWWW!!"

"Oh, my poor cher! 'Ere." she retrieved a lacy handkerchief from the pocket of her nightgown and offered it to her boyfriend. Seborga accepted it and blew heartily with a furious honk.

"Gratzi, Mona." he said, wiping his nose, "I'm sorry about my curl. It always makes me sneeze like that."

"Your curl? 'Ow very intriguing."

He nodded. "Whenever someone pulls it or touches it, I can't stop myself. I think my brothers' are the same too."

"Well, I apolagise for waking you." she stroked his cheek idily, "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"It's alright, I'm awake now." Seborga sat up and grinned, "Why don't we have some fun instead?"

Monaco felt herself blush but made no objections, especially when he lent in and peppered her neck in little kisses. While he slipped a hand around her back to unzip her nightgown, she noticed how his curl protruded from the side of his hair, completely undefended. The opportunity was far too good to miss.

Overcome with mischief, she grabbed his hair and gave it a playful yank. Sure enough, Seborga collapsed down onto her shoulder immediately, his body heaving.

"K'shhooo! H'WESHIIIEW!" he emerged, sniffing hard, his expression half-exasperated, half-wounded, "Mona!"

Monaco held her hands over her mouth to conceal a rare giggle. "Sorry, mon cher, I just could not resist!"

(End)

Allergic to Romance

Pairing: England x France

(This was the last one I wrote… and I was getting really tired…)

They started kissing almost the moment they staggered into the house together. Harsh and raw kisses they were, and perhaps slightly alcohol-induced, but no less genuine. England threw his hands around the other's head as they tumbled and groped their way upstairs, no longer caring that this was improper, nor that it was the bloody frog who's tongue was entwined with his own. It was liberating to let go for once; to share kisses so hard they left him gasping for breath; to feel his lover's ragged hair slipping through his fingers like sand....

Just as they were about to burst into the bedroom, England felt the lonely tug of France pulling away. He half-grumbled, half-whimpered in dissatisfaction and his boyfriend put a soft finger to his lips.

"Shhh, shhh, mon lapin. We will continue in a minute. I just 'ave a little surprise for you first."

"Fine." England folded his arms, "But this had better be good!"

The Frog chuckled in response and flung the door open with the kind of melodrama only a Frenchman could achive.

"Be'old!"

The heavy scent of perfumed roses wafted into the hallway, potent enough to make his eyes sting. Blinking rapidly, England wandered inside and his jaw dropped. It looked like France had decorated the entire bloody bedroom for the occasion. Rose petals scattered the floor, masses of scented candles lit the room with a sleazy glow, and the bed was covered half by the St George's Cross and half by the Tricolour.

"Bloo-dy Hell!"

"What is it?" France's arms slipped around his waist; his breath hot against his neck, "Surely you can admit that you are just a little bit impressed, non?"

England rolled his eyes and twisted his head towards his lover's to steal another kiss. "You and your idiotic romance!"

They resumed their foreplay eagerly, falling into kisses and breaking away to tear off another article of the other's clothing. It was just as he had France pinned down against the bed- exactly the way he liked him- when England felt it; the sharp itch burning through his sinuses. Pushing France's head to the side, he closed his eyes and let the sneezes tearing loose.

"Hahhh-- Atishhh'iew! T'schhhieew!"

"A tes souhaits." France regarded him with wide, puppy-dog eyes of concern, "What is wrong, mon chou?"

England sniffed harshly, blinking away the prickly tears which collected in the corners of his eyes. "No idea, actually. Maybe I'm just allergic to sleeping with Frogs like you."

France threw him a fake-hurt look, "Oh Angleterre, what an 'orrible thought that it!"

"Well, don't be surprised if it turns out to be true." England rubbed the tip of his nose savagely. Why wouldn't that infuriating itch just stop? He cupped his hands to his face as he felt another tickle reach the point of no return.

"A'tschhh! H'tsshhh! Hhhaah... Achishooo! Ahh'shhiieew!!!"

Each sneeze was ruthless and jarring, causing tears to seep slowly down his face and and mess to dribble over his lip.

"A tes souhaits." France scooped him into his arms, kissing each teardrop from his place, "Oh mon dieu, whatever can the problem be?"

England huffed and swiped his fist under his nostrils. "Well I think I can guess. How about these bloody scented candles that you insisted you decorate the room in?"

"Oh... I see." France stood up and, one-by-one, snuffed out each of the candles before turning on the light on his bedside table, "Well, trust you to be allergic to romance, Angleterre."

England sniifed deeply in relief, hhis nostrils finally beginning to clear. "Trust you to be frivolous enough to put about twenty candles in one room more like it."

"Come on, there is no need to be like that! Valentine's day is supposed to be a night of romance after all, non?"

He produced a bottle from the bucket lying by the bed and popped open the cork.

"Champagne, mon lapin?" froth drippled over the nozzel and he lapped it up suggestively. England scowled.

"Bloody Frog."

(End)

I’ve got a week off school now because it’s half term (hooray!), so I’ll definitely be writing the Canada as soon as I can. I’m so sorry again that I’ve made you wait!

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

Awwwe the last one though ;o

<3 awesome !

and yay for my nation Canada <3

[cakeface33]

These are great! I totally lost it at the last one. If any more historical fics come to mind,that would be a grande treat!

[Not_Telling]

ahaha aww~

These are cute I LIKED IT AND I AM EXCITED FOR THE CANADA!!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Omg these were fabulously fluffy! Please take your time on the Canada one!

[Hachimitsu Tea]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH NORDICS *Q* THOSE NORDIC ONES JUST PUSHED ALL MY HAPPY BUTTONS, OH MY GOSH!! ESPECIALLY THAT DENNOR ONE HOLY CRAP *Q*

[Maus_17]

Oh my goodness! I simple adored the ones with Den and Nor and the Monaco and Seborgia one! AHHHHH THAT WAS CISNFODPspwsl! I LOVED IT so much! :3

[MidnightCatK]

So cute!!! I loved each and every one of them, especially the Seborga x Monaco one! Those two honestly need more attention in the world of Hetalia, and I was so happy to see that you did something with them!!!

[lillian]

DAT PRUSSIA! Oh CT, that was amazing! Thank you so much for filling my request- it was perfect! Soviet!Prussia is one of my favourite things. I started a fic about him, and then Kimi and I role-played the rest out <3

Dat drabble tho, I think it's one of your best! I loved it so much!

[CT <3]

@Lillian. Glad you enjoyed it. Yeah, I love Cold War stuff too. Perfect backdrop for angsty separation. That ropeplay sounds fantastic. I’d love to read it some time.

@Cakeface. Ahhhh, sorry it took me so long! I really didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Perhaps I struggle writing non-Europeans XD. Anyway, I hope it is okay.

*Note*This is set a couple of days ago, before Canada played America in the Winter Olympics Ice Hockey Semis (Canada ended up winning 1-0). I refered to England as ‘Britain’ because it’s a more accurate term in regards to our sports team.

In Training

Canada tilted on his skates, leaning into the bend to build up as much momentum as possible. He weaved through a series of imaginary defenders effortlessly while he flicked the puck back and forth- teasingly close, but never quite near enough for them to snatch it away. Within sight of goal, he took aim and struck as hard as he could. The puck sailed over the ice towards the vacant goal and kissed the back of the net. Canada felt a rush of triumph as he skated over to collect it, imagining the roar of the entire stadium in celebration. Of course, he wouldn't need to imagine it for much longer; the semi-final was approaching faster by the minute. The thought made his stomach turn.

He stooped down by the goal and retrieved the puck, sniffing minutely. Perhaps it was just the piercing chill of the Russian air, but he couldn't help but notice the enduring twinge in his throat and sinuses, as if someone was tickling them with an icy-cold feather. Standing up, he rested against the goalpost and lifted up his facemask to rub his nose. At first, he'd just dismissed it as dehydration, or overwork maybe, but now he wasn't so sure. It had been agony during the curling match against Britain earlier and, much to his embarrassment, he had to stifle at least five sneezes during the medal presentation ceremony. He was just grateful that nobody had noticed.

Talking of sneezes, the prickles in the back of his nose had developed to a level of excruciating irritation; fierce enough to make his eyes well up and his breath shudder. A rapid, powerful outburst could be just what he needed. Clutching onto the goalpost for support, Canada inhaled a series of sharp little sniffs in attempt to coax out the itchiness.

"Hehhh-- ehhhhh... hwehuuehhhhhh..." his heart leapt as he felt the tickle flirting towards release. He titled his head back, waiting expectantly, but the urge died a moment later and his breathing returned to normal. Frowning, he removed his helmet and gave his nose a slightly more insistent nudge. If only he could tickle these sneezes out somehow... give his nose the relief he knew it craved...

A surge of uncharacteristic naughtiness suddenly overcame Canada as an idea formed in his mind. Glancing over his shoulder to check that the rink was empty, he looped his fingers around his hair curl and pulled it down towards his nostrils. His heart was hammering as he inserted the tip inside and began to caress the inner wall of his nose. It was a torturous sensation, luring the itch closer and closer to the surface, but strangely erotic too. He couldn't help feeling a rush of excitement as his nose crinkled and his breath hitched over.

"Hhhhh... Hi'tchiUHHHH!!!" the resulting sneeze had a throaty, eruptive quality about it, jerking Canada's body so violently that he almost lost his footing, "He'shhuUHHHH!!! 'SHUUUUHH!!!"

"Bless you!" came a squeak from the stands and Canada turned to see Mr Kumajiro jumping up and down on his seat before tilting his head in confusion, "Who are you?"

"I'm Can- Cana- 'PSHUUHH!!" the interruption echoed over the stadium; at least ten times louder than normal. Mr Kumajiro put his paws over his ears and there was just enough time for Canada's cheeks to pinken before he was bracing himself for more, "H'kussshhhooo! HitCHIII!! 'SCHIUUHHH!!!"

Fit over, Canada raised his head gingerly and shifted his position on his skates.

"Ex-excuse be, Bister Kubatedto." He sniffed and giggled sheepishly, "Wow, that was so... so loud."

A curious sensation was building inside him; half satisfaction, half devilish desire. He couldn't remember a time he'd completely let loose like that before and... it felt surprisingly *good*. Canada straightened his glasses and mopped up the mess skirting down his upper lip, contemplating. The itch had certainly been soothed by that frenzy, but he could feel it lingering surreptitiously in the back of his nose; ready to sneak back at any moment if it was provoked again. Well, since he was being made to suffer this cold during the Olympics- if it was a cold- it seemed only fair that he should be able to have some fun with it.

Consumed by addiction, he found himself reaching for his curl once more, bringing it down towards his face, and-

A loud, sudden slam echoed behind him, followed by the grating of skates across ice. It was difficult for Canada to keep himself from panicking as he whipped around, mortified to discover that he had an intruder, and even more so when he saw just who it was. Across the pitch, America's eyes met his, and he saw them widen slightly in surprise beneath his helmet. He skated over to the goalpost with his usual powerful strokes and lifted up his facemask.

"Hey, Canada, what'cha doing here now? Our game's supposed to be, like, way later on, bro."

"I kdow, I just thought that- thought that I should get a little traidi'g dode first, so I booked the pitch." he cleared his throat sheepishly and lowered his voice to a mumble, "Aberica, you didn't happen to see what I was doi'g there, did you?"

Thankfully, America was far too occupied to even hear. "No way! I just booked it up myself a moment ago! Russian dude I asked said he hadn't seen anyone come here all day."

Canada blinked. "Really?" He'd tried so hard to raise his voice loudly when he'd requested the pitch; hadn't the guard even noticed his presence at all? "Wow, that's- that's ki'da e'barrassing. Well, I guess you can take it if you wadt- I oughta be getti'g back."

He stowed his helmet under his arm and was about to stake over to the stands to collect Mr Kumajiro, but America blocked his path.

"You're kidding, bro?! Since you're here, and I'm here too, why don't we have a game together now?"

"Uh... I think I'll pass." Canada said, laughing nervously and taking a step back, "I was nearly dode whed you cabe in adyway."

He didn't like the look of his brother's dynamic stance or the way he was aggressively twirling his hockey stick one little bit. Besides, the chill of the ice was beginning to seep cold into his bones, increasing his nasal irritation. It would be better if he just returned to his hotel room and snuggled up under the covers for a few hours instead. Nobody would be able to interrupt his strange, new fantasy then. However, it seemed like America wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Come on, dude, don't be such a wuss! It's just a little practice run. Here," he prised he puck from Canada's hand and hurled it over the ice as far as possible, "We'll race for it on a count of three. One, two-"

"Aberica I- I," he paused to muffle an outbreak of coughing into his elbow, "I really don't feel in the bood for dobidatiod or-"

"THREE! Here I come!" with a woop, he darted off in persuit, reaching the other side of the stadium before Canada even had time to put his helmet back on properly. He made a half-hearted attempt to intercept America as he zipped back towards the goal, but his brother casually skated past him and knocked the puck into the undefended goal.

"WAHOOO, take a look at that, bro!" he cheered, raising his stick in the air, "One-nil to America!"

Canada caught up with him while he retrieved the puck, a rare sense of anger building inside. "Aberica, that was really unfair! You started before I was ready."

"Dude, you think I'm like fuckin' Britain? I'm not gonna wait up for you!" America chucked, and span the puck in between his fingers, "Up for Roud Two?"

"Er, well..." Canada looked aside, horrified to feel the burn in his sinuses intensifying suddenly. Unable to reach his nose through the helmet, he scrunched it up instead, but it did little to remedy the irritation, "To be h-hodest, I'b dot re-eaaah- really feeli'g very we- hwehhhhh--"

"'Kay, then, here we go!"America flung the puck into the air, waiting for it to drop down before catching it on his stick and dribbling it across the ice. Canada skated off in persuit, but it was no use; the heavy soreness in his head and persistent itch rendered him unable to keep up. He had barely reached the halfway point before his brother had scored once again at the other end.

"Yeehaah! Two-nil! Two-nil!" he skated back to where Canada stood forlornly and patted him condescendingly on the shoulder, "Woah, the semi's gonna be a breeze if you're playing like this. I thought this was supposed to be your national sport, bro?"

The sheer cockiness in his expression was enough to make Canada's blood boil, finally snapping his already-tenuous nerves.

"Aberica, you're ad ASS!" he burst out, shoving his brother in the chest, "I've had enough of you pushi'g be arou'd e-every tibe we b- beeeh-beet! Hh-hehhhh..." his words were halted by a jerk in his nose and his nostrils fluttered with the strain. He was half-expecting America to interrupt him as he faltered, but he was simply too dumbstruck to speak. Trying to swallow the tickle, Canada continued,

"You've got to u'dersta'd that dot everyone likes bei'g aggressive! Especially d-dot hehhhhh whed- whed they're si- siiii- H'iskhuuUUHH!" the constrained sneezes welcomed their liberation explosively, spraying the inside of Canada's helmet and causing his nose to run unstoppably, "Hut'CHUUuuuhhhh! Hk'ishhHHIIIIIIII!!"

The shuddering releases pitched his head forward with force enough to make him loose his footing. Before he knew it, he was sprawling headlong onto the ice; the itch still flaring against his nostrils with tantalising demand.

"HERRUSSHUH!!! 'EPSHOOO!!! H'KSCHHUH!!!"

Canada blinked in the blurry aftershock, overwhelmed with a mixture of humiliation and glorious pleasure. Gasping and sniffing, he remained where he was on all fours, neither able nor willing to clamber back to his feet. A moment later, a pair of strong arms enveloped his shoulders.

"God bless, bro." America said, helping him sit up, "Jeez, I can feel your fever from here! Why didn't'ca tell me you were sick?"

Canada pulled off his helmet and allowed his weary head to rest against his brother's chest. "Well, I kinda did, but you weren't paying much attention..."

America's mouth swung open in apparent astoundment that he could ever be so neglectful. "For- for real? Dude, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have made you play with me at all."

"It's- it's cool." Canada said, "I shouldn't have shouted, or said all those terrible things, or-"

His brother placed a finger against his lips. "Shhhh. It's okay, the hero is here now. And I'm gonna getcha fixed up again real quick, you'll see."

Using his stick to help, he heaved himself to his feet and held out a hand to Canada.

"C'mon, I'll take you Mr Kumajiro back to your hotel and then go find Russia. Maybe we'll be able to postpone the game until you're feeling better."

Canada took the offered hand and stood up tentatively. "Aberica... thadks. I really appri- apprici- 'ishhHOOOOOoo!!!"

He felt his stakes slip back once more, but America caught his arms and hauled him up just in time

"Bless you! Y'know, for such a quiet guy, your sneezes are as loud as hell!"

Colour rose to his cheeks. "I'b- I'b sorry- er, excuse be- I didn't-"

"Hey, no sweat! I think it's kinda cute." his brother slipped an arm around his waist to help him off the ice, "And I guess that would explain those weird, explosive noises coming from the stadium earlier on, right?"

Canada gulped, shame sweeping through him. "D-did you-?"

"Did I hear?" America said incredulously, "Dude, half of /Sochi/ must have heard 'em. Way to get yourself noticed, bro!"

Regardless of his embarrassment, Canada couldn't help a shy smile slipping onto his face. "Yeah... I guess..."

(End)

Cupcake’s Spamano will be next up.