[fic] Become One With Canada (Hetalia; Pru/Can) 11/29
Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY PREUβEN.
I need a new default icon.
Only You
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Canada, Prussia, mentioning of others
Word count: 886
Genre: general
Rating: worksafe
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Perhaps not a fic fitting for Prussia's birthday, but what the hell XD
---
It was in the middle of a meeting when Canada’s phone rang. England interrupted his speech about the new, absolutely smashing way of making cars require less fuel that his scientists had thought of (“Oh, Angleterre, zeriously, my scientists thought of ‘dis ages ago” - “Yeah, mine too! Totally was my idea before either of yours, c’mon who do you think is running this show anyway, of course it’s me, the he-“) with an annoyed look in his general direction - while Canada had become easier to distinguish lately, there were still a lot of times when the other nations had problems fixing their gazes at him right away.
He excused himself and got to his feet, exiting the room before he answered the cell.
“Hello?”
“Matthew? Matthew.” The call was, of course, from Prussia. It still took Canada a moment to figure out who the low voice on the line belonged to, simply because Prussia never before in their shared history (which was, admittedly, rather short, but still) had called Canada by his full human name. It was always ‘Matt’ or ‘Teis’ (or ‘kid’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘babe’, but that was neither here nor there). Nor had he ever sounded this panicked. Canada was instantly alerted.
“Gilbert, what is it? Talk to me.”
“It’s happening again. Mein Gott, Matthew, it’s happening again.”
He didn’t make himself a fool by needing to ask what “it” was, at least. His stomach made a painful lurch, his heart dropping to the bottom of his shoes like a heavy, cold rock.
“I’ll take the next flight home, okay? I’ll be right there. Just hang on, we’ll fix this. We’ll find out what’s wrong and we’ll fix it. Okay? Hang in there.”
He pulled the phone from his ear without waiting for a reply, already dialing the number to the Roskilde Airport. Soon after, he’d booked a too-expensive seat on the next plane to Toronto and a cab to take him to it, and typed a hurried message to America before he ran out of the building.
Ten hours had never felt so insanely long to him. When he finally set foot on his own soil again, he wasted no time putting himself on a bus to New Prussia. Upon the time he knocked on Prussia’s front door - he’d forgotten his keys in the bag he’d left in the hotel in Copenhagen - he was too worried to feel how tired and hungry he was. While the seconds stretched out, panic rose like bile in his throat. What if he were too late? What if Prussia had already… Or worse, what if he was so far gone that he no longer had the strength to come open the door, and was just laying on the floor in his house, collapsed, left to fade away while Canada was just standing here.
He was just about to go climb a window when the door was flung open and Prussia stood before him, as tall and colourless as ever - except for his eyes, which were admittedly very tired, but sparkling red and full of life. Canada blinked.
“I…” he started, not sure what to do with all the relief that coursed through him all at once.
“Come on,” Prussia hurried him over the threshold. Well inside the house, he stuttered out some kind of embarrassed (or at least Canada thought he looked kind of embarrassed, what with flinging his arms around and speaking just a bit louder than he’d taken a habit of doing lately, but you could never be sure with Prussia) explanation which could have served as an apology for making Canada leave in the middle of a meeting like that to come flying across half the world, even though Prussia looked like health itself.
So, Prussia had woken up the day after Canada had left and felt this numbness in his pinky, yeah? And he’d checked and it’d been nothing, right? So he left it alone, but already that afternoon it had started fading again and he’d panicked and called Canada and…
Canada had raise his hand to stop him so he could ask him uncertainly:
“Your pinky?”
“My fucking pinky,” Prussia exclaimed, and held up his once-again gloved left hand. His expression was so wild that Canada didn’t dare to question him further, but just reached across the space between them and tugged at the garment. Prussia winced and looked away, but didn’t stop Canada as he slid it off his fingers, leaning in to examine each one of them closely.
“I can’t see anything,” he mumbled. “Are you sure it’s this hand?”
“Of course I’m sure, how the hell couldn’t I be, it started the same damn way the last time!” Prussia yelled, but turned his face back to scrutinize his hand as well. He blinked. “Huh. It’s back to normal.”
Canada relaxed. “So… let me get this right; your pinky started disappearing and you panicked? Correct?”
“Uh. Yeah. Exactly.”
“But now it’s back.”
“Yeah.”
Canada smiled. “Well, all’s good then. You’re not dying.”
Prussia stared at him. “I guess not.”
“Good. Lunch? I’m starving.”
“Uh. Lunch sounds awesome?”
It wasn’t until a couple of months later, when Canada left to go visit France for his birthday, and it happened again, that Prussia realized that his pinky paling wasn’t a sign of his own dawning destruction, this time.
It was simply just his finger missing Canada.
He stared at the traitorous digit. “You damn sap,” he accused it.
---
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I need a new default icon.
Only You
by exorcistor
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Canada, Prussia, mentioning of others
Word count: 886
Genre: general
Rating: worksafe
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Perhaps not a fic fitting for Prussia's birthday, but what the hell XD
---
It was in the middle of a meeting when Canada’s phone rang. England interrupted his speech about the new, absolutely smashing way of making cars require less fuel that his scientists had thought of (“Oh, Angleterre, zeriously, my scientists thought of ‘dis ages ago” - “Yeah, mine too! Totally was my idea before either of yours, c’mon who do you think is running this show anyway, of course it’s me, the he-“) with an annoyed look in his general direction - while Canada had become easier to distinguish lately, there were still a lot of times when the other nations had problems fixing their gazes at him right away.
He excused himself and got to his feet, exiting the room before he answered the cell.
“Hello?”
“Matthew? Matthew.” The call was, of course, from Prussia. It still took Canada a moment to figure out who the low voice on the line belonged to, simply because Prussia never before in their shared history (which was, admittedly, rather short, but still) had called Canada by his full human name. It was always ‘Matt’ or ‘Teis’ (or ‘kid’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘babe’, but that was neither here nor there). Nor had he ever sounded this panicked. Canada was instantly alerted.
“Gilbert, what is it? Talk to me.”
“It’s happening again. Mein Gott, Matthew, it’s happening again.”
He didn’t make himself a fool by needing to ask what “it” was, at least. His stomach made a painful lurch, his heart dropping to the bottom of his shoes like a heavy, cold rock.
“I’ll take the next flight home, okay? I’ll be right there. Just hang on, we’ll fix this. We’ll find out what’s wrong and we’ll fix it. Okay? Hang in there.”
He pulled the phone from his ear without waiting for a reply, already dialing the number to the Roskilde Airport. Soon after, he’d booked a too-expensive seat on the next plane to Toronto and a cab to take him to it, and typed a hurried message to America before he ran out of the building.
Ten hours had never felt so insanely long to him. When he finally set foot on his own soil again, he wasted no time putting himself on a bus to New Prussia. Upon the time he knocked on Prussia’s front door - he’d forgotten his keys in the bag he’d left in the hotel in Copenhagen - he was too worried to feel how tired and hungry he was. While the seconds stretched out, panic rose like bile in his throat. What if he were too late? What if Prussia had already… Or worse, what if he was so far gone that he no longer had the strength to come open the door, and was just laying on the floor in his house, collapsed, left to fade away while Canada was just standing here.
He was just about to go climb a window when the door was flung open and Prussia stood before him, as tall and colourless as ever - except for his eyes, which were admittedly very tired, but sparkling red and full of life. Canada blinked.
“I…” he started, not sure what to do with all the relief that coursed through him all at once.
“Come on,” Prussia hurried him over the threshold. Well inside the house, he stuttered out some kind of embarrassed (or at least Canada thought he looked kind of embarrassed, what with flinging his arms around and speaking just a bit louder than he’d taken a habit of doing lately, but you could never be sure with Prussia) explanation which could have served as an apology for making Canada leave in the middle of a meeting like that to come flying across half the world, even though Prussia looked like health itself.
So, Prussia had woken up the day after Canada had left and felt this numbness in his pinky, yeah? And he’d checked and it’d been nothing, right? So he left it alone, but already that afternoon it had started fading again and he’d panicked and called Canada and…
Canada had raise his hand to stop him so he could ask him uncertainly:
“Your pinky?”
“My fucking pinky,” Prussia exclaimed, and held up his once-again gloved left hand. His expression was so wild that Canada didn’t dare to question him further, but just reached across the space between them and tugged at the garment. Prussia winced and looked away, but didn’t stop Canada as he slid it off his fingers, leaning in to examine each one of them closely.
“I can’t see anything,” he mumbled. “Are you sure it’s this hand?”
“Of course I’m sure, how the hell couldn’t I be, it started the same damn way the last time!” Prussia yelled, but turned his face back to scrutinize his hand as well. He blinked. “Huh. It’s back to normal.”
Canada relaxed. “So… let me get this right; your pinky started disappearing and you panicked? Correct?”
“Uh. Yeah. Exactly.”
“But now it’s back.”
“Yeah.”
Canada smiled. “Well, all’s good then. You’re not dying.”
Prussia stared at him. “I guess not.”
“Good. Lunch? I’m starving.”
“Uh. Lunch sounds awesome?”
It wasn’t until a couple of months later, when Canada left to go visit France for his birthday, and it happened again, that Prussia realized that his pinky paling wasn’t a sign of his own dawning destruction, this time.
It was simply just his finger missing Canada.
He stared at the traitorous digit. “You damn sap,” he accused it.
---
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