Anon apologizes for the lack of requested on-screen sexing up here, and the fact that I know absolutely nothing about Canadian provincial history. Hope that it’s enjoyable anyway. (Ah, by the way, does anyone happen to have a human name for Ukraine lying around?)
Taking Responsibility [1/?]
“What did you just say?!”
“I said, Ukraine is pregnant and I’m the father,” moaned Canada into his hands, partially to mask his burning shame and partially to wipe off the beer that America had spat into his face.
Said twin was still staring at him, clutching the half-empty glass of Samuel Adams in one hand and the edge of his barstool with the other. The thick panes of his glasses masked whether his eyes were wide in surprise, shock, horror or all three.
“Dude,” he said, and then, for extra emphasis, he said it again. “Dude!”
“I heard you the first time!” Canada snapped, slamming one hand down on the bar. He shoved his glasses back into place and spun in his seat, slumping across the bar in despair. “God, and here I thought you might actually try to help.”
“You want my help? Here,” America leaned across the bar and signaled for the keep’s attention. “We need something strong, and I mean really strong, like, at least 180 proof, flavored with maple syrup.”
Canada lifted his head to shoot his brother an exasperated look. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you a stronger drink; you need it.”
“I don’t even drink that much…”
“Well, you must have sometime, because that’s the only thing I can think of that would convince you it was a good idea to sleep with Russia’s sister!”
Canada groaned, but accepted the glass when it was pressed into his hand. He stared gloomily at his reflection in murky brown pool. The bar around them was bright and noisy, a stark contrast to the dark English pub he’d drifted to after the world meeting in London last month.
So maybe he had been a little drunk. Not a lot drunk, just a little. It was just some white wine. And then he’d spotted Ukraine in a far corner, looking lonely and demure and beautiful, in an icy princess kind of way that Canada found very attractive. So he’d struck up a conversation, between friends and coworkers, of a sort. And maybe he’d noticed she was flirting with him about the time he decided to by her a drink; and it maybe gentlemanly altruism hadn’t been his only reason for walking her back to her hotel.
One month, three e-mails and a quietly resigned phone call later, and here he was.
“So…what are you going to do?”
America’s voice startled him out of his self-pity. He had been quiet for such an uncharacteristically long time that Canada had almost forgotten that his brother-slash-confidant-slash-drinking-buddy was there. The northern nation shrugged. “What else can I do? I’m going to take responsibility for my actions.”
“That mean you’re gonna marry her?”
“Al, our kind can’t just get married at the drop of a hat.”
“Elizaveta and Roderich did it.”
“That was a political union first and foremost, the fact that they’re actually in love was just a happy coincidence.”
“Tino and Berwald?”
“They’re not married, Sweden just likes to think they are,” Canada sipped his drink with a frown. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Baby or not, my government would never agree to a marriage with a Russian satellite.”
Not that he would have minded. Ukraine was gentle and soft-spoken and just the kind of girl he was attracted to. And, of course, she really was quite pretty…
America read his brother’s every thought and frowned. “So, what are you going to do, then?”
“I’m going to take care of her until the baby is born. I’ve got a place out in the country where she’ll be comfortable, and I’ll get her anything she needs. And when the baby is born, well, we’ll go from there. One way or another, I’m going to take care of my kid.”
To seal his contract with himself, Canada downed the entire drink - a burning but oddly appropriate mixture of vodka and maple syrup - in one long gulp. Once finished, he slammed the glass onto the bar and announced, “And that’s that!”
Re: Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [1/?]
anonymous
July 6 2009, 01:02:43 UTC
this anon is pretty sure most of the fandom refers to Ukraine as Katyusha. Don't know how it started, as I'm pretty sure she doesn't have an official name, but that's the only name I've ever seen her called.
Re: Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [1/?]
anonymous
July 6 2009, 04:39:33 UTC
As an above 'non has said, the general fan-name given to Ukraine is Katyusha (although Yekaterina is also used sometimes).
And yaaaaay~! I have to admit, I absolutely adore this ship! And so far your writing style has me enraptured. I simply must know what will happen next! Oh, and I love your Canada already. Keep up the awesome!
And to be a presumptuous Saskatchewanon, the province was born in 1905 when the land was split in two to prevent the area from growing too politically influential. There was a lot of land, after all. Alberta was also born then. ^^ Since then the three prairie provinces have become the main areas Canadian-Ukrainians are found.
Re: Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [1/?]
anonymous
July 6 2009, 05:22:30 UTC
Texas-born-and-raised writer!anon sincerely appreciates the info! Especially because my ability to research the Saskatchewan area is severely hindered by my inability to properly spell it on a regular basis... >_>
Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [2/?]
anonymous
July 7 2009, 06:19:34 UTC
“Well…here we are.”
Ukraine gasped, a puff of white mist floating from her mouth. She gazed up at the quaint little mountain chateau with an unreadable expression, her mitten-clad hands clutched in front of her chest like the statuary of a saint. Canada shifted awkwardly on the spot, uncertain of what he reaction could mean - being Ivan’s sister, she was bound to be more used to the grandeur of Russian architecture. “It’s not much, but I hope it will do.”
“It’s lovely,” Ukraine sighed, her eyes beginning to water. “Oh, it’s just like the home Natalia, Ivan and I lived in as children!”
Canada laughed awkwardly at that, not entirely certain if he liked that comparison. He hurried a few steps ahead of the girl to hold the door open for her, helping her remove her fur coat the moment she walked in the door.
Ukraine was still gushing over the surrounding scenery in a teary sort of way, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “The purity of that pristine white snow, it brings back such memories….Oh, Matvey, I had no idea that your country was so beautiful!”
“I’m glad that you think so,” said Canada softly, and blushed a bit at the praise.
“And this wonderful little home! It’s just too perfect to bear!” She turned to Canada with a grateful, almost desperate look. “I’ll do everything I can to keep it perfect condition! I’ll clean every day, and cook all the meals and of course the laundry will have to be done regularly, and -”
“No!”
Canada reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and cutting her off in mid-rambling. For a moment afterwards, he was left as speechless as she, struggling with his words until they finally stumbled out of his mouth. “Ukra - Katyusha, I brought you out here so you could relax. Just take it easy for a few months. You don’t have to do any work, or cleaning or anything. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
“Matvey…” Ukraine looked hesitant for a second, as though she had never heard such honest words before and their existence was all but overwhelming. Then she smiled a shy, beautiful smile. “Thank you.”
Canada felt his throat tighten up, and he swallowed a few times in an attempt to push it back down. The girl in his arms was almost three months pregnant - three months pregnant with his child - and she was just beginning to show. He’d been worried about her, the part of his mind that was still quite hysterical (and perhaps a bit drunk) fretting that trip would be too much, even at this early stage.
Lost in his thoughts, his hands drifted down Ukraine’s arms until one found a place at her right elbow, while the other came to rest on the slight bulge of her stomach. Her cheeks darkened slightly, but she didn’t try to pull away from him, and Canada was too lost in thought to notice.
“…Katyusha?”
“Yes, Matvey?”
“Do you hate me?”
Ukraine dipped her head to the side in bewilderment. “Hate you?”
“For doing this to you.”
Ukraine smiled again and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. She rested a hand on Canada’s shoulder and leaned up to kiss him quickly and chastely. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered against his lips. “I could never hate you.”
Canada blushed until his entire face matched the red of his sweater. Ukraine giggled, giving his little curl of hair a quick and pleasurable twist (ooh, he’d actually forgotten that she’d found that!) before she trotted away to pick out a room for them in their new home.
Canada remained in the front hall for a moment, basking in the warmth that she had left behind. He shivered a bit, shaking off the last of the tingle that had almost sent him back to that brief (endless, unforgettable, wonderful) night in the hotel. That girl, that lovely, warm girl, was the mother of his child. Just thinking about it brought a smile to his face and just for a moment, in spite of the mess it had created, he couldn’t be happier.
Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [2/?]
anonymous
July 7 2009, 06:20:57 UTC
Canada stiffened at the noise, the odd rattling laughter that chilled even his winter-borne body to the bone. It was followed closely by a voice, an innocent, childish, absolutely mother-****ing terrifying voice.
“Big sis may not hate you. But I do.”
As a large and rather frightening hand clamped down on his shoulder, Canada realized with horror that he had forgotten to close the door behind them.
(“Matvey,” according to my favorite baby names website, is the Russian equivalent of “Matthew.” Figured it made sense. Recaptcha says “nuked 10.” This bodes badly for poor Matthew.)
Re: Canada/Ukraine Pregancy Fic - Taking Responsibility [2/?]
anonymous
July 7 2009, 19:02:11 UTC
Saskatchewanon returns with much giggling and squealing in delight. Ooooh, a mountain chateau? Canada certainly has class~! (I suspect Banff?)
Aaaaaah, those interactions. I could never get enough of how they talk and act around each other, it's just so sweet and Matthew's doing his best to handle the situation and Katyusha's taking it all in stride and Ivan made me scream "oh snap" when he entered and... gah. Just... keep writing this, please. I'm loving it.
Taking Responsibility [3/?]
anonymous
July 9 2009, 06:31:15 UTC
(Authornon is so happy that people are enjoying this fill! Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments! It really makes my day. ^_^)
Taking Responsibility [3/?]
The words, “Oh please don’t kill me,” were on the tip of his tongue, but as that particular organ was currently struck to the roof of his mouth by unadulterated fear, they never manifested themselves. Canada choked on his own terror, hardly able to breathe as Russia’s unmistakable trademark chuckles faded out of existence.
“You seem surprised, my neighbor,” said Russia slowly, never taking his hand off Canada’s shoulder nor moving where the terrified nation could see him. “Did you really believe I would not take the time to make sure my dear sister was comfortable in her, ah, temporary home?”
Something about his emphasis on the second-to-last word made Canada bristle. It was a ridiculous sentiment - the arrangement was temporary, they’d known that from the beginning. Eventually, Ukraine would have to return to her own lands, to take care of her own people.
But that was not Russia’s decision to make.
“P-Please l-leave.”
Russia’s grip tightened. “What was that, neighbor?”
“I-I said p-please leave,” Canada sputtered, pulling away from the larger nation and twisting around to face him. “You…You came in without being invited. It’s rude. P-P-Please get out of my house.”
There was a smile on Russia’s face, as always, and that was the most terrifying part. “But I have not yet seen my sister.”
As he spoke, a hand drifted up his side and disappeared into the folds of his coat. Canada took a step back and began groping along the hall table for something, anything that he could use as a weapon. His hand barely had time to wrap around the old phone - it was an antique and a gift from England, but it was also heavy and therefore readily available to give its life in defense of Canada’s own.
“Matvey,” called Ukraine, popping out of a door down the hall with a broad smile on her face. “Is this room you set up for us? I just love the colors and - oh! Ivan!”
The dangerous aura vanished as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. In an instant, Russia’s smile was just that, the warm smile of a man happy to see his elder sister. “Sister, good evening. It is most wonderful to see you.”
They began speaking back and forth, very quickly, in Russian. Canada did not let go of his phone.
“It is wonderful to see you, sister,” said Russia after a few minutes of conversation, clearly switching to English for Canada’s benefit. “I have missed you so.”
“Ivan, it’s only been a few days,” Ukraine said gently, leaving the obvious and frightening question, “Did you seriously follow us all the way out here?” unspoken.
“But it seems so much longer,” Russia lamented, scooping her hands up into his own. One came to rest on the bulge of her stomach, and Canada tensed all over again. “I worry for you so, out here in this wilderness. You and your child deserve the finest of care.”
“Which is exactly what she’s going to get,” Canada insisted, his shoulders knotting up from the tension.
Russia chuckled, as though he’d cracked a pleasant joke, and continued to ignore his ‘neighbor’ without care. Ukraine smiled at him in a placating manner, rubbing her thumb along the ridge of his knuckles. “Your concern is touching, Ivan, but it is not necessary. Matvey has done many wonderful things for me, more than I could ever ask for.”
“Indeed he has,” said Russia in a much more dangerous tone. He pressed his hand against her stomach a bit and glared at Canada in disgust. It was quite clear that he blamed the smaller country almost as much a Matthew blamed himself.
“Ivan,” Ukraine pressed on, with the quiet determination of a big sister who knows exactly how to subdue the storm inside their younger siblings. Canada’s new-found respect for her grew exponentially. “There is no reason for you to be here. Surely, there are things in your own country that need to be attended to. Your people need you.”
“And yours as well, sister.”
“Which is why I need you to go back and look after them until I can return,” Ukraine insisted, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please, Ivan. For my sake. Watch over my people for me.”
“As you wish then,” Russia sighed and brought Ukraine’s hands up to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Do svidania, my sister. I hope to see you again very, very soon.”
With that - and one more terrifying glare in Canada’s direction - he swept away and let the heavy oak door swing shut behind him.
Ukraine locked the door in his wake and turned back into the house hesitantly. She nibbled on the knuckle of her pinky, avoiding Canada’s eye. “I’m sorry, Matvey. Ivan can be somewhat possessive at times, but he’s really quite gentle if you take the time to get to know him.”
“I’m sure…”
He finally let go of the phone, sagging against the wall with a groan. His entire body felt weak from the encounter, and his heart was racing like a horse out of the gate. An awkward moment stretched between them, neither quite meeting the other’s eye, with Canada half-expecting Russia to return, this time using his pipe to break down the door…
Finally, Ukraine broke the silence. “I’m a bit, um, hungry.”
“Oh, of course!” Canada started, shoving a smile onto his face and leading the way into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that! I’ll go get lunch started right away! What would you like?”
“Well, to be honest, lately, I’ve had the oddest craving for pickles…”
Canada had been expecting that. Odd cravings were the only thing that had been constant throughout the endless mess of pregnancy advice he’d garnered from everyone who found out about their current situation. He had an entire shelf in the kitchen dedicated solely to pickled vegetables of various flavors and varieties for the occasion.
“…on whole wheat toast…with maple syrup.”
Canada stopped dead, twisting around with one foot through the kitchen door. “Excuse me?”
Ukraine blushed red. “I…I would like a pickle sandwich, on whole wheat toast, with some of your maple syrup. I’ve always had a taste for it, you know. It’s just so sweet and so pleasant when it’s warm and…Matvey, why are you smiling at me like that?”
Canada almost laughed. The goofy grin that had spread over his face felt just that good, especially as it swept the last remaining traces of fear out of his system. “Oh, no reason. Lunch will be ready in just a bit.”
Anon apologizes for the lack of requested on-screen sexing up here, and the fact that I know absolutely nothing about Canadian provincial history. Hope that it’s enjoyable anyway. (Ah, by the way, does anyone happen to have a human name for Ukraine lying around?)
Taking Responsibility [1/?]
“What did you just say?!”
“I said, Ukraine is pregnant and I’m the father,” moaned Canada into his hands, partially to mask his burning shame and partially to wipe off the beer that America had spat into his face.
Said twin was still staring at him, clutching the half-empty glass of Samuel Adams in one hand and the edge of his barstool with the other. The thick panes of his glasses masked whether his eyes were wide in surprise, shock, horror or all three.
“Dude,” he said, and then, for extra emphasis, he said it again. “Dude!”
“I heard you the first time!” Canada snapped, slamming one hand down on the bar. He shoved his glasses back into place and spun in his seat, slumping across the bar in despair. “God, and here I thought you might actually try to help.”
“You want my help? Here,” America leaned across the bar and signaled for the keep’s attention. “We need something strong, and I mean really strong, like, at least 180 proof, flavored with maple syrup.”
Canada lifted his head to shoot his brother an exasperated look. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you a stronger drink; you need it.”
“I don’t even drink that much…”
“Well, you must have sometime, because that’s the only thing I can think of that would convince you it was a good idea to sleep with Russia’s sister!”
Canada groaned, but accepted the glass when it was pressed into his hand. He stared gloomily at his reflection in murky brown pool. The bar around them was bright and noisy, a stark contrast to the dark English pub he’d drifted to after the world meeting in London last month.
So maybe he had been a little drunk. Not a lot drunk, just a little. It was just some white wine. And then he’d spotted Ukraine in a far corner, looking lonely and demure and beautiful, in an icy princess kind of way that Canada found very attractive. So he’d struck up a conversation, between friends and coworkers, of a sort. And maybe he’d noticed she was flirting with him about the time he decided to by her a drink; and it maybe gentlemanly altruism hadn’t been his only reason for walking her back to her hotel.
One month, three e-mails and a quietly resigned phone call later, and here he was.
“So…what are you going to do?”
America’s voice startled him out of his self-pity. He had been quiet for such an uncharacteristically long time that Canada had almost forgotten that his brother-slash-confidant-slash-drinking-buddy was there. The northern nation shrugged. “What else can I do? I’m going to take responsibility for my actions.”
“That mean you’re gonna marry her?”
“Al, our kind can’t just get married at the drop of a hat.”
“Elizaveta and Roderich did it.”
“That was a political union first and foremost, the fact that they’re actually in love was just a happy coincidence.”
“Tino and Berwald?”
“They’re not married, Sweden just likes to think they are,” Canada sipped his drink with a frown. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Baby or not, my government would never agree to a marriage with a Russian satellite.”
Not that he would have minded. Ukraine was gentle and soft-spoken and just the kind of girl he was attracted to. And, of course, she really was quite pretty…
America read his brother’s every thought and frowned. “So, what are you going to do, then?”
“I’m going to take care of her until the baby is born. I’ve got a place out in the country where she’ll be comfortable, and I’ll get her anything she needs. And when the baby is born, well, we’ll go from there. One way or another, I’m going to take care of my kid.”
To seal his contract with himself, Canada downed the entire drink - a burning but oddly appropriate mixture of vodka and maple syrup - in one long gulp. Once finished, he slammed the glass onto the bar and announced, “And that’s that!”
“…You want another drink?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
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And yaaaaay~! I have to admit, I absolutely adore this ship! And so far your writing style has me enraptured. I simply must know what will happen next! Oh, and I love your Canada already. Keep up the awesome!
And to be a presumptuous Saskatchewanon, the province was born in 1905 when the land was split in two to prevent the area from growing too politically influential. There was a lot of land, after all. Alberta was also born then. ^^ Since then the three prairie provinces have become the main areas Canadian-Ukrainians are found.
I'll shut up now.
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Ukraine gasped, a puff of white mist floating from her mouth. She gazed up at the quaint little mountain chateau with an unreadable expression, her mitten-clad hands clutched in front of her chest like the statuary of a saint. Canada shifted awkwardly on the spot, uncertain of what he reaction could mean - being Ivan’s sister, she was bound to be more used to the grandeur of Russian architecture. “It’s not much, but I hope it will do.”
“It’s lovely,” Ukraine sighed, her eyes beginning to water. “Oh, it’s just like the home Natalia, Ivan and I lived in as children!”
Canada laughed awkwardly at that, not entirely certain if he liked that comparison. He hurried a few steps ahead of the girl to hold the door open for her, helping her remove her fur coat the moment she walked in the door.
Ukraine was still gushing over the surrounding scenery in a teary sort of way, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “The purity of that pristine white snow, it brings back such memories….Oh, Matvey, I had no idea that your country was so beautiful!”
“I’m glad that you think so,” said Canada softly, and blushed a bit at the praise.
“And this wonderful little home! It’s just too perfect to bear!” She turned to Canada with a grateful, almost desperate look. “I’ll do everything I can to keep it perfect condition! I’ll clean every day, and cook all the meals and of course the laundry will have to be done regularly, and -”
“No!”
Canada reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and cutting her off in mid-rambling. For a moment afterwards, he was left as speechless as she, struggling with his words until they finally stumbled out of his mouth. “Ukra - Katyusha, I brought you out here so you could relax. Just take it easy for a few months. You don’t have to do any work, or cleaning or anything. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
“Matvey…” Ukraine looked hesitant for a second, as though she had never heard such honest words before and their existence was all but overwhelming. Then she smiled a shy, beautiful smile. “Thank you.”
Canada felt his throat tighten up, and he swallowed a few times in an attempt to push it back down. The girl in his arms was almost three months pregnant - three months pregnant with his child - and she was just beginning to show. He’d been worried about her, the part of his mind that was still quite hysterical (and perhaps a bit drunk) fretting that trip would be too much, even at this early stage.
Lost in his thoughts, his hands drifted down Ukraine’s arms until one found a place at her right elbow, while the other came to rest on the slight bulge of her stomach. Her cheeks darkened slightly, but she didn’t try to pull away from him, and Canada was too lost in thought to notice.
“…Katyusha?”
“Yes, Matvey?”
“Do you hate me?”
Ukraine dipped her head to the side in bewilderment. “Hate you?”
“For doing this to you.”
Ukraine smiled again and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. She rested a hand on Canada’s shoulder and leaned up to kiss him quickly and chastely. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered against his lips. “I could never hate you.”
Canada blushed until his entire face matched the red of his sweater. Ukraine giggled, giving his little curl of hair a quick and pleasurable twist (ooh, he’d actually forgotten that she’d found that!) before she trotted away to pick out a room for them in their new home.
Canada remained in the front hall for a moment, basking in the warmth that she had left behind. He shivered a bit, shaking off the last of the tingle that had almost sent him back to that brief (endless, unforgettable, wonderful) night in the hotel. That girl, that lovely, warm girl, was the mother of his child. Just thinking about it brought a smile to his face and just for a moment, in spite of the mess it had created, he couldn’t be happier.
And then, something rather odd reached his ear:
Kol kol kol…
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“Big sis may not hate you. But I do.”
As a large and rather frightening hand clamped down on his shoulder, Canada realized with horror that he had forgotten to close the door behind them.
(“Matvey,” according to my favorite baby names website, is the Russian equivalent of “Matthew.” Figured it made sense.
Recaptcha says “nuked 10.” This bodes badly for poor Matthew.)
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Please, please continue!!
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Aaaaaah, those interactions. I could never get enough of how they talk and act around each other, it's just so sweet and Matthew's doing his best to handle the situation and Katyusha's taking it all in stride and Ivan made me scream "oh snap" when he entered and... gah. Just... keep writing this, please. I'm loving it.
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Taking Responsibility [3/?]
The words, “Oh please don’t kill me,” were on the tip of his tongue, but as that particular organ was currently struck to the roof of his mouth by unadulterated fear, they never manifested themselves. Canada choked on his own terror, hardly able to breathe as Russia’s unmistakable trademark chuckles faded out of existence.
“You seem surprised, my neighbor,” said Russia slowly, never taking his hand off Canada’s shoulder nor moving where the terrified nation could see him. “Did you really believe I would not take the time to make sure my dear sister was comfortable in her, ah, temporary home?”
Something about his emphasis on the second-to-last word made Canada bristle. It was a ridiculous sentiment - the arrangement was temporary, they’d known that from the beginning. Eventually, Ukraine would have to return to her own lands, to take care of her own people.
But that was not Russia’s decision to make.
“P-Please l-leave.”
Russia’s grip tightened. “What was that, neighbor?”
“I-I said p-please leave,” Canada sputtered, pulling away from the larger nation and twisting around to face him. “You…You came in without being invited. It’s rude. P-P-Please get out of my house.”
There was a smile on Russia’s face, as always, and that was the most terrifying part. “But I have not yet seen my sister.”
As he spoke, a hand drifted up his side and disappeared into the folds of his coat. Canada took a step back and began groping along the hall table for something, anything that he could use as a weapon. His hand barely had time to wrap around the old phone - it was an antique and a gift from England, but it was also heavy and therefore readily available to give its life in defense of Canada’s own.
“Matvey,” called Ukraine, popping out of a door down the hall with a broad smile on her face. “Is this room you set up for us? I just love the colors and - oh! Ivan!”
The dangerous aura vanished as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. In an instant, Russia’s smile was just
that, the warm smile of a man happy to see his elder sister. “Sister, good evening. It is most wonderful to see you.”
They began speaking back and forth, very quickly, in Russian. Canada did not let go of his phone.
“It is wonderful to see you, sister,” said Russia after a few minutes of conversation, clearly switching to English for Canada’s benefit. “I have missed you so.”
“Ivan, it’s only been a few days,” Ukraine said gently, leaving the obvious and frightening question, “Did you seriously follow us all the way out here?” unspoken.
“But it seems so much longer,” Russia lamented, scooping her hands up into his own. One came to rest on the bulge of her stomach, and Canada tensed all over again. “I worry for you so, out here in this wilderness. You and your child deserve the finest of care.”
“Which is exactly what she’s going to get,” Canada insisted, his shoulders knotting up from the tension.
Russia chuckled, as though he’d cracked a pleasant joke, and continued to ignore his ‘neighbor’ without care. Ukraine smiled at him in a placating manner, rubbing her thumb along the ridge of his knuckles. “Your concern is touching, Ivan, but it is not necessary. Matvey has done many wonderful things for me, more than I could ever ask for.”
“Indeed he has,” said Russia in a much more dangerous tone. He pressed his hand against her stomach a bit and glared at Canada in disgust. It was quite clear that he blamed the smaller country almost as much a Matthew blamed himself.
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“And yours as well, sister.”
“Which is why I need you to go back and look after them until I can return,” Ukraine insisted, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please, Ivan. For my sake. Watch over my people for me.”
“As you wish then,” Russia sighed and brought Ukraine’s hands up to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Do svidania, my sister. I hope to see you again very, very soon.”
With that - and one more terrifying glare in Canada’s direction - he swept away and let the heavy oak door swing shut behind him.
Ukraine locked the door in his wake and turned back into the house hesitantly. She nibbled on the knuckle of her pinky, avoiding Canada’s eye. “I’m sorry, Matvey. Ivan can be somewhat possessive at times, but he’s really quite gentle if you take the time to get to know him.”
“I’m sure…”
He finally let go of the phone, sagging against the wall with a groan. His entire body felt weak from the encounter, and his heart was racing like a horse out of the gate. An awkward moment stretched between them, neither quite meeting the other’s eye, with Canada half-expecting Russia to return, this time using his pipe to break down the door…
Finally, Ukraine broke the silence. “I’m a bit, um, hungry.”
“Oh, of course!” Canada started, shoving a smile onto his face and leading the way into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that! I’ll go get lunch started right away! What would you like?”
“Well, to be honest, lately, I’ve had the oddest craving for pickles…”
Canada had been expecting that. Odd cravings were the only thing that had been constant throughout the endless mess of pregnancy advice he’d garnered from everyone who found out about their current situation. He had an entire shelf in the kitchen dedicated solely to pickled vegetables of various flavors and varieties for the occasion.
“…on whole wheat toast…with maple syrup.”
Canada stopped dead, twisting around with one foot through the kitchen door. “Excuse me?”
Ukraine blushed red. “I…I would like a pickle sandwich, on whole wheat toast, with some of your maple syrup. I’ve always had a taste for it, you know. It’s just so sweet and so pleasant when it’s warm and…Matvey, why are you smiling at me like that?”
Canada almost laughed. The goofy grin that had spread over his face felt just that good, especially as it swept the last remaining traces of fear out of his system. “Oh, no reason. Lunch will be ready in just a bit.”
“I think I may love this girl.”
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Really enjoying this fic so far, please continue!
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