Disclaimer: Hetalia and Avengers and its characters do not belong to me - unfortunately - they belong to their respective creators/owners.
Author Note: Part 2 of 2. The final bonus chapter. It was a pleasure writing this fic! Enjoy and leave feedback!
Hungary observed with a baleful expression the sky above. The day had started out like any other. She had felt a weird echo across the ground near Aggtelek National Park, and she had walked to the source of it. Lo and behold, the hero team 'the Avengers' were fighting against someone with glow-y powers who could fly. Now they all seemed to be fighting in the air, causing a big racket above her land, downing her precious trees, making huge holes in her smooth plains, and freaking out nearby tourists and citizens and wildlife alike. Really, though, did they have to fight there? She crossed her arms over her usual dress as she watched them, irritated that they had flown into her territory on some jet or something instead of going through official means. She huffed, getting herself more riled up.
A sound not unlike engines abruptly came closer to her. Her head snapped to the sound only to see a robot in gold and red hovering toward her. She eyed him, unsure if this was an Avenger or one of their opponents. It was focused on her and edged closer.
"Ma'am, as your friendly neighborhood Ironman, I'm gonna need you to vacate the premises." Hungary did not move. "That means leave. Evacuate. Run. You know, stuff sane people do."
Hungary shot him a displeased look. "This is my home. I will stay where I want." She wanted to see them finish what they started and then leave. To make her point, she firmly planted a foot forward and placed her hands on her hips.
"Ironman," a voice called from elsewhere, "what's the holdup?"
The Avenger turned toward the voice but did not raise his own, obviously speaking into some kind of comm system. "That civilian JARVIS detected refuses to move."
"That's right, I do."
The robot turned back to her. "You know I could fly you by force to safety."
"You better not," she shot back.
"Ironman," the same voice – who probably lost his own comm or something since he was yelling – from before called, "get that civilian to safety, now!"
The robot shrugged at her. "Captain's orders, miss. Sorry about this but not too sorry since I'm kind of saving your life." He used his thrusters to fly toward her and scooped her off the ground before she could dodge. "Now, that wasn't so bad, huh- Ah, hey! Quit it!"
She continued to beat at his head with her fists since she lacked her frying pan at that moment. "You quit it!"
"You quit it! I'm saving your sorry butt. Normal people would be grateful!"
"I did not ask you to save me – I wanted to stay put, remember! You all are tearing up my home!"
"Sorry, but that's the price to pay for saving the world sometimes. Be grateful we're keeping this lunatic away from the people."
"We can handle ourselves! Put me down!"
"I'll put you down once we reach town," he assured her firmly.
Calming, she seethed in his arms. "Your armor is ugly."
"Hey, now, let's be adults about this." The wind filled the silence between them. Then to be a child about it despite his words, "You're awfully manly-acting for someone who wears a dress."
She resumed her attack with a vengeance, trying to aim hits at his robot crotch for good measure.
China watched the public from inside one of his stores with high hopes. The Avengers had been gaining more and more popularity lately. Whether it was good popularity or the bad kind did not matter. He had products tailoring to each fan and non-fan of the Avengers. In theory, he would make a good fortune on this business venue alone. In practice, he would have to wait and see. If all went well, he could start exporting Avenger products to other countries besides the Americas.
Three customers entered to look around the store. The store had different products all around, but most of it themed towards the heroes. China watched them closely, excitement and nervousness barely contained as they browsed around the newly-opened store. One customer left without buying anything, and China tried not to feel disheartened about this one person out of the many people walking around today. There would be more customers. The other two made a separate full treck around the store. While one – a Chinese native – gazed at a necklace selection, the other customer – a tourist by his looks despite the sunglasses he wore – walked up to the counter, which China quickly sidestepped behind with a happy smile. The customer held up a keychain.
"I'd like to purchase this, please," he requested in perfect Chinese. He placed the keychain on the counter. China took a moment to glance at what struck his attention. The keychain was one featuring an individual member of the Avengers in small, chibi form.
"Ah, yes," China replied back. "Black Widow seems to be very popular for a member not seen as much as the others." He quickly rung up the keychain, and the man paid for it.
"Very popular," he agreed with a smirk, "I'm sure she will like this."
"Oh! A present for someone?" China conversed as he bagged the item.
"No, it is for me," the man told him. "But my friend feels very connected to the Black Widow."
China nodded, happy that he was able to make a sale on the first day open, no matter how little it was. "I hope you and your friend enjoy the gift, and that you are able to come again soon!" China bowed goodbye, and the man returned it.
"Thank you very much," the blonde man said as he left.
As the day progressed, more and more customers wandered in, and China soon had his hands very busy ringing up Avenger themed products.
The building somewhere behind Sealand abruptly exploded in a ball of flame on one of the upper floors. Startled, he and everyone turned to watch the flames roar and debris rain down to the sidewalk below. Then someone screamed. And everyone on street level started running in all directions for their lives, trying to get somewhere safe from attacks. Sealand quickly dropped his icecream. Missiles echoed somewhere in the sky, only to be silenced by exploding prematurely before they could hit other buildings.
Sealand whipped around quickly. Where was Finland? Where was his Papa Sweden? He was just beside them! His heart sped up when he realized he was alone in a sea of panicking humans. What direction should he run to? What was the smart thing to do? Someone stepped on his ankle almost as someone else bumped forcefully into him from the opposite direction. He backed up to one of the buildings to get out of peoples' way. When someone is lost, they should just stay in one place, right? He looked to the sky warily. He thought he saw a flash of a red cape in the air, but could not be sure with all the chaos around him.
By now, the sounds of missiles had ceased, and the street was spare of more humans than it had been. Sealand searched again for his guardians in the less crowded area. He saw them at the exact moment they saw him. He smiled, relieved beyond belief, a sentiment reflected in their faces. He stepped away from the building, aiming to greet them halfway. A rumble shook his feet, and he looked down by reflex.
He looked up at the scream to see them now sprinting to him – Sweden in front, being the fastest – gazes between him and above. Foreboding filling his veins, he looked up and saw a billboard falling toward him faster than he could run. With no time to move or think, he watched in slow motion as the weighted sign fell to meet him. Because things were slowed down for him, Sealand had a chance to see a shadow not belonging to any billboard fall over him, the whipping sound of a cape smacking his ear, and a familiar pair of arms wrapping around him, crushing him to their chest. Then time became normal again and Sweden was hunching over him protectively as a man in regal armor used a hammer to knock the billboard away just as quickly. It slammed into an emptied business across the street. Sealand watched it where it lay, unable to take in all the information in such a short time.
He blinked, and Finland was in front of him, hands on his shoulders. "-ou okay, Sealand? Are you hurt? Talk to us."
Sealand nodded wordlessly.
"What? What does that mean? You are hurt?"
Sealand shook his head.
"Tell me in your words."
"Uh...I'm fine," he answered from far away, shock still in his system.
But the answer made Finland relax and Sweden loosened his arms around him a bit. A shift of clothes had them looking behind them. The man with the hammer and red cape was studying them.
"I apologize for becoming distracted and for not noticing the danger before, but it is fortuitous no one was harmed." He smiled. "A courageous family such as yours will grow strong. But now I must see to it that my Lady Jane is safe, as well. Fare thee well!" He began to spin his hammer until it was a blur just as Finland gasped.
The man was gone in a second, flying through the air and out of sight. They scanned the skies for him but to no avail.
Finland clenched his fists and moaned in disappointment. "Thor! That was Thor! Nooo..." His head sunk. "We could have talked to him!"
Sweden grunted. He stood, taking Sealand with him. Sealand looked about as his adoptive father placed him back on his feet. The street was a mess, but there was no one injured. Sweden patted his head and suggested they go somewhere a little less chaotic. Finland agreed, still upset at a missed chance with the Norse god, but he placed a hand on Sealand's other shoulder and kept it there, and Sealand felt better surrounded by his protectors again.
"I appreciate the offer," Nick Fury said, sounding annoyed that he his supposedly non-existent phone had been tracked down, "but I'm retired, if you haven't heard."
England quirked an eyebrow from his seat in his house. "No, I know what the official story is." He watched through the window as butterflies and fairies fluttered in the garden. "Everyone in the lower-levels believes you to be dead."
"That was the intended belief."
"Well," England said into his house phone, "Her Majesty does not enjoy dealing with loose ends."
"I'm a loose end, am I."
"You are if you insist on this," he paused, searching for a word as he made a circle motion with his hand, "nomadic isolation. You won't even consider the offer? The world, not just the UK, could use your help."
The former SHIELD director said, "The Avengers and the world are doing just fine without me."
England huffed, not wanting to give up trying to recruit one of the most resourceful men on the planet. "Honestly, most people would not object so insistently to being offered a job, much less a career."
"I'm not most people." England could practically see the man's smirk. "How are your affairs, mister Kirkland?"
England refused to be drawn in to niceties, but answered him anyway. "I am fine, thank you for asking."
"And mister Jones?"
"Are you asking about the man or the country?"
"However you please."
The man was infuriating to hold a conversation with, especially considering Nick Fury took the explanation of personified countries with a grain of salt and tended to view all of them more as delusional immortals. "Alfred is the same hyperactive prat he always is, and the United States as a whole is normal enough, only with a bit more criminals popping up now that heroes are getting more popular." He paused. "You know, you could see this all for yourself," he tried a persuading tone. "All we need is your location, and a plane can retrieve you today. You can be back home or wherever you wish by tomorrow at the latest."
A humored snort. "Nice try, but I'm wherever I want to be already. I don't need a bunch of agents, Avengers, and personifications coming by at all hours to bother me about jobs. I'm retired."
England huffed. "You're making me a failure, Director Fury."
"Not a director anymore. Give Her Majesty my regards, and my thanks for the job offers. But I don't want them or need them."
"Fine. Fine. I'll inform her of your stodgy decision to remain off-grid and aloof."
"Goodbye, mister Kirkland."
England grumbled but said pleasantly, "Goodbye, Dir- mister Fury." He hung up his phone and groaned, grabbing up his warm tea to regain the good mood he awoke in. He had hardly ever spoken with the spy organization's director – that was the job of paid agents – but he had done it a few times enough to know that the man could not be moved on a subject no matter what was offered in return. England knew he was set up to fail when his boss wanted him to get in contact with the man with the persuasion to come back into society, if not specifically the UK's society (after all, Nick Fury's resume was impressive, and he would be an asset to have in their own spy networks). It was still annoying to fail in his mission. It had not been easy to find that blasted phone frequency to that bloody untraceable phone, which was most likely already destroyed by its paranoid owner.
He leaned back in his chair, sipping contentedly at his brew. At the very least, he could be grateful that someone like Nick Fury was unlikely to go terrorist after so many years combating them. That and, because the man was not a terrorist, he was not going to be outing the secret of country personifications he had learned all those years ago, no matter how little he believed them. England was unsure if the Avengers or other SHIELD agents knew of him and the other countries, but he doubted it. The amount of observation he and the others received versus the amount he knew they would receive if others aside from the SHIELD director knew about them did not tally up. It was better that way, in any case.
He had procrastinated long enough. He placed his empty cup down and dialed the familiar number. He followed through the necessary channels to give his ruler the answer neither of them wanted from Nick Fury but had expected anyway.
"No, no, no," Poland said as he took the shirt and its hanger from the hands of the woman. "That will totally not go with your complexion; you need bright colors. Bright ones." He threw the shirt carelessly behind him instead of placing it back on the clothes rack. It would take too much time.
Originally, he had walked into a previous store to go shopping for himself – which he still planned to do – but had gotten sidetracked when he saw what horrible, clashing clothes the red-headed woman near him was buying. He could not let that go, but he also could not bring himself to talk to her yet, so he wound up scurrying after her and following her into stores across the shopping mall. Finally, from behind a shelf of clothes in the last shop of the mall, he had spoken up – squeaked – that she shouldn't buy the shirt she was holding. She had suggested he find her something better if he was really so knowledgeable. Being the thoughtful person he was, he decided to help her, and he threw all the clothes she had picked out on the floor. It was time to start anew.
The woman, Natasha Romanoff, as she had introduced herself, leaned on the shopping cart. "I could just get an employee who actually works here to help me," she said in excellent Polish.
Poland scoffed as he inspected and discarded clothes that would match her or not. "The employees here cannot match my sense of style. You are better off with me." The employee working on the clothes rack near them let out an offended huff and walked away. Poland paid them no mind, seeing as how he had just found a bright green ruffled-collar shirt that would go with her hair and skin. He tossed it over his shoulder at her head. "That will work." He searched more. "Oh! And this one, too!" He tossed a purple one over to her. "We should get you a blue one."
"Thank you, but these seem perfectly fine."
"You only picked out two-"
"You only picked out two. I had picked out six."
"-and you need much more for what can be called a good shopping trip!" He spoke over her, used to countries trying to interrupt him while he was talking. Lithuania had mostly learned to stop that habit by now. ...Darn. Poland should have brought him along. Forget that the man had paperwork. "Here you go," he said as he handed her a perfect blue shirt of a different design along with a black.
She raised an eyebrow at him and slowly took the clothes from him, placing them in the cart. "Not going to throw them at me?"
"Huh?" He looked at her with confusion.
"Never mind, you're in the zone."
Poland smiled. "Someone gets it! My friend just, like, does not understand that sometimes fashion is important."
"Woe is you," she said with a side smile.
"Woe is me," he repeated.
"When will the fashionista release me from his clutches?"
"When you have a proper wardrobe. I've been following you all day and your style is horrible!" He picked up a pair of booty shorts and placed them in a different area of the shopping cart. "These are for me," he stated imperiously as he pointed at them, in answer to her unimpressed look.
Natasha remained leaning where she was, watching him work. "What about my style is so horrible?"
"Well, for one," he began vehemently, "you bought, like, ninety percent dark colors. And most of those were totally black! You need some variety."
"Maybe I needed to get dark clothes."
"You have enough," he informed her firmly, tossing in an orange and red – the same shade of her hair – shirt. He held up a pink and white-striped shirt up to her, looking between them. He held the shirt to his chest. "This is mine," he told her, taking the shirt for himself instead.
She shrugged. "I don't care for pink, anyway."
"Good!" Poland flung it into the cart. "Hey, what are you doing after this?"
"I don't know. My flight doesn't leave until toni-"
"Great! I'll invite my friend and we'll all go to the best dining place ever! They serve until midnight."
"And if I have plans?" she asked with a slight frown.
"Cancel them," he said simply. "You can go change and wear one of your new outfits to dinner. Not those dark ones; the ones I picked out."
Her silence made him turn to look at her. Natasha's narrowed eyes seemed to see through him in an unpleasant way, and he wandered briefly if maybe he offended someone he shouldn't have by saying too much like Liet always warned about. But then she smiled, all friendliness present.
"I'll wear my new clothes if you wear yours," she said with a nod at his shirt and shorts.
He tilted his head. "Short-shorts aren't really a dinner kind of thing...but deal!" They shook hands on the agreement, and he allowed her to go pay for the clothes. She even bought his own.
"It's thanks for the dinner I'm assuming you're paying for. Aren't you treating me?" she asked teasingly.
Poland frowned at her, thinking. "Maybe we'll get my friend to treat us instead. It's what I usually do. He likes it."
"Then it sounds like a plan."
From behind his work desk, Lithuania had the sudden urge to check how much money his wallet had left in it.
Tony the Alien had never cared for any alien races other than his own. And, even then, he didn't much bother with his own people. Which was why the Asgardian hanging around rubbed him the wrong way. Looking at the news cast of another Earth dignitary shaking hands with Thor and his team, he sipped at his hot chocolate.
"Fucking bitch," he said.
America, wrapped in a blanket, laughed beside him. "Yeah, Thor's pretty cool."
We're officially done! I hope everyone had a fun time reading as much fun as I had writing it and reading your reviews. I'm writing a fluff family 'Haikyuu!' fic right now if that's your cup of tea. Thanks to everyone who reviewed along the way – those keep me going faster!