A/N: And here I am with another update of this lovely story! Got a special for you all today- to make up for my super-long delay in posting last time (as well as the crappish chapter), I now present you with a longer chapter, slightly quicker update, and an OMAKE. Fun times. I'm not going to tell you what the Omake is about, though. Only that it was inspired by something someone said after reading chapter 2. Hope you all enjoy it.
Part 4: We Fly Like Paper
He stepped off the plane into a cool breeze. It blew the hair off of his face and made his curl flap erratically around his head. Looking around, he sighted on a distant mountain, smiled, and ran for a cab.
He was on a mission, and no one was going to stop him.
"I think you can move over a bit."
"You're too close. Move, please, aru."
"Oh? You mean, like this?" Ivan scooted towards Yao, a malicious smile on his face.
"That is NOT what I meant, aru." Yao squished himself closer to the window, trying to get as far away from the Russian man next to him as possible without throwing himself out of the window and plummeting 30,000ft to go splat in the picturesque European countryside.
Yao had reluctantly accepted Ivan's offer of help in his search for Yong-Soo, who had disappeared on a flight north some time previously. He'd been shown to the Russian ambassador's plane, which was slightly suspicious, and promised a comfortable, quick flight by the perky flight attendant (Russian), pilot (Russian), and Ivan (Russian). All the signs and pamphlets were in Russian.
It was a bit too much Russian for him. Frankly, he was rather scared.
The inside of the plane was very… posh, to steal a word from Arthur. Leather couches lined the sides, in a warm beige color that reminded Yao of Ivan's jacket, which he happened to be wearing. He blended in well. A flat-screen TV hung on one wall, and a table sat in the middle of the aisle (if you could call it that- it was more of a room). It wasn't huge, but the area was more than big enough for two people. Why Russia had insisted on sitting right-exactly-next to Yao and infringe on his personal bubble was beyond him.
"Are you comfortable, Yao?"
"Uhh… do I have to be honest, aru?" He squirmed.
The Russian man leaned on him. "Of course," he said, "if you really are comfortable. Otherwise, I would advise not." He smiled. "Are you sure you do not enjoy our proximity? I, for one, do."
"That's creepy, aru."
Ivan smiled. Yao knew he was in for a long, uncomfortable flight. He looked out the window at the green scenery miles below him. Europe was a very green place. It didn't compare to his rice fields, of course, but still. He'd like to find out what caused all the green-ness sometime. Maybe he could get Ludwig or Feliks to give him a tour (preferably sans the manicure, which would be included in any tour given by Poland, like, totally). Not Francis, though. Any trip with Francis was pretty much a request to be raped in a dark alley somewhere.
"Why are you looking for Korea?" Ivan broke the silence. "I do not see why you would want to, da."
Yao scowled. "He's my brother."
"So? I was under the impression that he was an annoying, stupid, arrogant brat who didn't know when to shut up."
"That doesn't change the fact that he's my brother, aru."
"I do not understand."
Yao looked up at him. "He's my little brother, aru! He's family! That means that, no matter how annoying he is, I have to take care of him, aru! Can't you understand that? Or does your family not work that way?"
He'd gone too far.
Ivan's face darkened, his creepy smile shutting down on itself. He drew back, no longer squashing Yao into the wall. "No. It does not, seeing as how my older sister is afraid of me, and my younger sister is mentally unstable." He lapsed into a stormy silence.
"I-I'm sorry, aru…"
"There is no need for you to be sorry, da." He turned away, facing forward in his seat. Yao noticed his hands shaking.
"N-no, really, I said something tactless, aru."
Russia looked at him, actually looked at him, without a creepy smile or evil expression on his face. Yao wasn't sure what he saw there, but it was different.
Ivan sighed. "It does not matter. You wouldn't have known."
Ivan took a deep breath, and there was the smile back on his face. "Some people are luckier than others, da?"
Yao watched him turn back to happily describing the number of TV channels he could get in the air. He had an odd feeling, like he'd witnessed something rare and valuable. Something to be treasured.
He shook his head. This was Russia he was talking about here. There was no way that anything else existed underneath that scary, icy exterior.
There was a house, and there was its door. It was a little house, and the door was painted an inviting shade of red. He hurried towards it, remembering to tip the cabbie. Up the walk and onto the porch he ran, pounding on the door.
Footsteps sounded behind it. A form approached, misty and colorful through the stained-glass window. The door was pulled open, and-
"You know, we have a doorbell, you don't have to pound on the-hey!"
He barged past the speaker, sleeves flapping wildly. The one he sought was here, somewhere. He just knew it. He could feel it in his heart.
Did this house have a back door somewhere, maybe? Ah, there it was. Small and inconspicuous, but through it, he would find the one he was looking for.
A shadow loomed over him. He looked up into the scariest face he'd ever seen, towering at least a foot over his own.
"'nd where d'y' th'nk y're g'ng?"
It was an obstacle. He did not like obstacles. This would have to be… dealt with.
"Russian TV is weird, aru."
"This is not Russian TV, da."
"Fine then, whatever kind of TV this is, it's weird, aru."
"It is Norwegian TV."
"We're over Norway?"
Yao sighed. They didn't seem to be going in any direction that he could surmise whatsoever. The plane had just meandered along, burning up it Russian fuel supply over the northern European countries. And Ivan still refused to tell him where they were headed.
"Well then, aru, where are we?"
"We are making a detour." Ivan smiled.
"A detour? What kind of detour, aru?"
"An unimportant one."
"So you're not going to tell me," Yao guessed.
Yao scowled. It was getting dark outside, they'd been on this plane for two thoroughly awkward hours, and he still had no idea where they were headed. Korea was probably wreaking havoc wherever he was (another thing Ivan had refused to tell him), and Yao was stuck on a plane with an ex-Soviet madman.
"So, then, will you tell me how long this detour will take, aru?"
"Da." Ivan pondered this for a while as Yao waited. "The answer is, I do not know." He laughed.
China went from scowling to fuming. He was starting to think that Ivan had just dragged him onto the plane to get him alone or something- wait, wait, don't even go there. That was so potentially awkward.
Ivan moved, and before Yao had time to react, his cheek was cupped in the Russian man's palm. "You know, you really are funny-looking when you are angry," he laughed.
"L-let go of me, aru!" Yao grabbed his hand and completely failed to make it budge. Ivan laughed harder and brought his other hand up to grab Yao's.
Yao did not like this at all. Not. At. All. Russia's face was too close to his by an extreme amount. He squirmed in his seat and tried to wriggle out of his grip, but the Russian was too strong. He was stuck.
"I do not think I have ever been in a situation like this with you before, China. "
Damn right, Yao thought. "Y-yes, yes you are. Now please back off, aru."
Ivan laughed, and let go of his hand, which Yao snatched back to himself with as much speed as he could muster. Russia smiled at this, and took his hand from China's face in a much slower fashion. Yao was sure he was doing it just to watch him squirm. Ivan sat up and leaned back.
Yao unconsciously touched his cheek where Ivan had been holding it, and noticed that it was warmer there. It almost burned, but the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant. He rubbed it a bit, then realized that he'd just thought and proceeded to chase down the offending brain cells responsible for it and execute them, one by one.
"That was fun, da." Yao looked up, about to protest, but Ivan cut him off. "We are landing, it seems."
Landing? "Landing where?"
"Norway, aru? Why?"
Ivan smiled. "We are looking for Yong-Soo, da?" He stood up and stretched, looking about the cabin.
Yao stood as well and absentmindedly began combing his hair. "Yong-Soo is in Norway?"
"I do not know."
This caught Yao's attention. "What, aru? You don't know?"
"That is correct, da."
"What? Wait, what, aru? I thought you said you knew where he was headed!"
"I do. He was headed North." Ivan opened the door, and stepped out. "Norway is north of England, da?"
Yao ran after him. "Lots of things are north of England, aru! He could have gone anywhere! Why did you drag me all the way up here, aru?" He stepped out of the plane into a rush of cool, night air, Norway style.
"I was under the impression that you were looking for your brother. The usual way of going about this is to actually search, da? So we are going to go ask Norway if he has had a visitor."
Yao sighed. "Oh. Well. Alright, aru."
Ivan hailed a cab outside of the airport in Oslo. Dragging Yao inside, he directed the driver to a Norwegian address- Yao assumed it belonged to Norway himself, but couldn't tell, because it was all in Norwegian. The cab sped off through the city night, and Ivan settled back.
"I didn't know you spoke Norwegian, aru."
Russia smiled. "Well, you have learned something, then."
Yao laughed, then wondered why he did. It was true that he was much more comfortable in the northern nation's presence than he had been, but he couldn't pinpoint when the change had happened. He shook his head, making his ponytail swish around.
"Is something wrong?" Ivan's voice in the dark was soft and sounded genuinely concerned.
"No, aru. Just, uh, um… how long will this drive be, aru?"
"Oh, not too long."
The obstacle was proving harder to deal with than he had expected. It was large and powerful, and didn't really respond to anything he did. It just stood there, patiently blocking him no matter which way he tried to go around. He considered attacking it head on, but there were a few drawbacks to that- one: it was taller than him, two: it was stronger than him, and three: it didn't seem to care much.
Also, it was pretty freaking scary.
Through the fuzzy haze of the spell in his mind, Yong-Soo heard a voice behind him. "Su-san? What's going on? Who is that?"
" 't's K'rea, I th'nk."
"Korea?" The speaker was a small man, blonde and blue-eyed, wearing a beret. Korea felt he should recognize him, but couldn't think from where. It didn't matter, anyways. "What are you doing here?" it continued.
Korea didn't reply.
"Sweden… his eyes are funny. Look at them…"
A large hand grabbed his face, twisting it gently towards the scary giant. "Y're r't. Th'r's s'mthing wr'ng w' th'm."
"They're all cloudy." The small man sounded worried. "Do you think he's sick, or something?"
"D'nno. He did b'rge in h'r w' no expl'n'ng." The tall man let go of his face, and turned him around to face the smaller one.
"His facial expression doesn't change, either… um… Su-san? Do you think he's sick or something?"
"I don't know either… I'll just, I'll just go… I'll go ask Norway. He should know, right?"
The tall man shrugged, and the smaller one ran off. Korea looked around. The house was small inside, and full of curious knick-knacks, but none of them interested him. He was only looking for-
Ah! The light of day shone upon Yong-Soo's clouded vision. There he was. Come to think about it, Yong-Soo wasn't entirely sure of his (or her, or its) gender, but it didn't matter. The one he had been looking for was right in front of him.
OMAKE: WHAT HAPPENED TO ENGLAND'S CAR
Ahh. This was the life. The top down, wind in his hair, and loud music blasting added up to the perfect combination this fine spring day. He drove along without a care in the world-
-down the wrong side of the road.
"HOLY SHIT!" He hauled on the wheel, flying out of the path of the oncoming car- which, he noted ruefully, had the right of way."DAMN ENGLISH CARS! YOU AND YOUR UPPITY BRITISH WAYS!"
Smirking because he'd obviously had the upper hand in that argument (which there totally was, of course there was, really), America steered England's car to the right (left) side of the road and continued on his merry way.
Which was about to get much merrier. He'd recently discovered a friend in Prussia, the only nation he'd met who was as awesome as him.
Translation: Prussia was a good drinking buddy.
But obviously not a hero. Of course not.
And so, Alfred F Jones was on his way to pick him up. They were gonna have awesome fun, and probably be drunk by three in the afternoon, and it was all thanks to the wonderful, wonderful Iggy, who had so lovingly loaned him this car.
Shit, the car. The car. He had to be really, really careful with the car. And he'd just barely avoided getting hit, in this expensive British car that did not belong to him. He doubted Iggy would be very forgiving if his car was trashed. But hey, he was a hero. It wasn't going to happen.
America hummed a little song as he sped towards the ex-nation's house. He lived with his brother, that Kraut. The one who'd caused so much trouble sixty-some years ago. It was somewhere along this road here- yep, this was the one, and in he turned, up the driveway, stopping a mere six inches before the front of the expensive British car hit the (probably) expensive German garage door.
He jumped out and banged on the door. "OIII! Prussia, my man! Dude! Are you he- oheythere."
"Vat do you vant?" The person who opened the door wasn't Prussia, his buddy. It just had to be his brother, of course. America had such good luck.
Germany raised an eyebrow. "You vant my bruder? I vas under the impression that he, and you, vere straight…"
"WOAH. HEY. WAY TO TAKE THAT THE WRONG WAY, DUDE." America waved his hands around. "Nononononono. We're going drinking."
"Oh. Of course." The blonde man turned and called over his shoulder. "Prueβen!"
Feet pattered down the hallway, and a small man with curly brown hair appeared around the corner. "Ve, Ludwig. Gilbert's asleep!"
"Feliciano." The German visibly relaxed. "He's still asleep? It's noon."
"Ve, really? Lunchtime! I HAVE TO MAKE PASTA!" Feliciano clapped his hands together, glomped Germany, kissed him on the cheek, and ran back off down the hallway before America had even fully processed his arrival.
When Germany turned back to him, his face was pink. It was now America's turn to raise an eyebrow, and the blush deepened. Damn it, thought America, stupid bastard can even look manly while blushing. But hey, I now know that he's gay. How interesting. He smiled.
"So, Prussia? Yes? No?"
Ludwig glared. "Ja, I'll get him." He headed off into the house, leaving the door open.
So of course, America wandered in after him. Germany's house was clean, almost to the point of being obsessive-compulsive. Though, when America thought about it, that really did describe Germany very well. He lingered in the hallway for a while before he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs.
Prussia rushed right past him before he noticed that America was there. "Woah! Woah! Woah!" He backed up. "How long you been waiting here?" Prussia, whether because he was an ex-nation or because he was just that cool, had less of an accent than his brother. America assumed they'd been spending too much time together.
"Not too long."
"Well, no need to wait anymore! THE AWESOME ME HAS ARRIVED!" And with that, a high-five, and a laugh from both of them, they ran out the door. England's fancy car was a marvel to Prussia.
"I never thought a prick like him would own something so cool." He rubbed his hand up and down the shiny hood.
"I know, right? Who woulda thought."
"Can I drive?"
"… No. England entrusted this car to me, mhm, 'cuz I'm a hero." America ignored the fact that Prussia was more used to European driving laws than him.
"So, you mean you just took it." Prussia laughed again. By this time, they were speeding down the lovely residential road at the ungodly rate of 80 mph, with the top down, of course.
"Damn right! He gave implied consent."
"Hahahahaaa! OH, the awesome me knows an awesome place to go drinking tonight."
"…Today. It's in Norway. Vikings really love their beer, almost as much as the awesomeness of awesome me and bruder."
That was a lot of awesome. "How did you find a bar in Norway? Isn't he, like, the other crazy fairy-lover?"
This entire conversation was being screamed over the wind, now rushing past at more than 100 mph. America was testing how fast the car could go before exploding.
"Denmark! That guy is crazy!" Prussia slapped Alfred's arm. "We should totally pick him up!"
"You sound like Poland!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Totally!" America laughed some more. "So, is Denmark on the way to Norway?"
"Right! Where's Norway?"
"…. Fucking American, you should let the awesome me drive!"
"But I actually know the way!"
"So be the navigator! Heroes drive! Navigators…. navigate!"
"But I'm awesome!"
At that moment, a siren sounded far behind them. It was pretty far back, but gaining fast. "Is that… a police car?"
"Sounds like it."
"Are they after us, do you think?"
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Think I should pull over?" America asked. Prussia looked at him. On cue, they both started laughing, and America hit the gas some more.
"That might have been the funniest thing you've said all day."
Far behind them, in the city of London, a certain Englishman felt the horrible chill of dread creep down his spine.
A/N: You haven't seen the end of those two… they'll come back. Hence why I left the omake .. unended. Haha. Uhh, yeah. Anyways, reviews are love . Thanks for reading!