[fan fic] Aurora Borealis
Title: Aurora Borealis
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Canada and Ukraine
Rating: G
Warnings: Randomly pregnant Ukraine, no attempts at historical accuracy, attempts at using lots of description in one paragraph (which is not my style.)
Summary: The Northern Lights have seen queer sights...
Northern Saskatchewan was no place for a child to be born, and Canada knew that. But he also knew that there was little chance of them making back south before the snow fell, a mistake on his part, and so they had been trapped in a small village all winter. It was not as though they were really in any sort of danger, the community had adopted them quite willing and made sure both Ukraine and her baby were quite healthy and as happy as possible, considering where they were.
One family with an extra room in their home (a son of theirs had recently left their home, to find his fortune in a city to the south) had given them a place to stay. Whether it was because they were naturally hospitable or because they were born-in-Canada Ukrainians was unknown to the pair of nations, but they were grateful either way.
Their room was not especially warm at night, despite the careful precautions to keep the cold out and the only consolation was the layers of blankets that covered the small bed. And it was quite small. Perhaps a single young man would find it comfortably large, but two adults, one of them quite pregnant, was simply too much.
Not that Ukraine minded too much. She liked being pressed up against Canada, her back to his front, one of his hands resting on the swell of her stomach. It was a comfort to have him so close, especially when blizzards howled and the bed seemed particularly cold.
It was the distinctive chill of Canada’s lack of presence that awoke her. She turned over, tried to see if the door was open in the absolute darkness of the winter midnight. The soft noise of footsteps told her it was, and that Canada was re-entering their room.
“Katyusha,” he whispered gently, “are you awake?”
“Yes,” she mumbled back, trying to hold her eyes open.
“There’s something you should see,” he told her, as quiet as ever. “Come out of bed, I’ll get your winter clothes.” Now that she was used to the blackness of the room it didn’t seem quite so dark to Ukraine anymore, and she could see Canada’s outline in the doorway. It looked like he was dressed in his heavy coat and wore his highest boots over his flannel nightclothes.
Ukraine stood slowly, one hand on her belly and the other at her back. When she was up on her feet she made her way awkwardly to the front door. The whole house was uncomfortably cold, despite the stove in the kitchen still burning. Canada met her at halfway and helped her into her coat and boots and wrapped an afghan around her for good measure.
“It’s cold,” he warned, his eyes bright behind his glasses. He took her hands in his and brought her outside. The cold was fantastic, immediately stinging at her bare legs and nose and eyelashes. A little snow fluttered down despite the clearness of the sky. It was soft and powdery and finer than sand, and it settled against the afghan and Canada’s coat and ended up in the hair of both of them.
They shuffled forward a few steps together and then Canada told her to turn around. As she obeyed Ukraine felt all the breath leave her lungs.
She’d seen the aurora borealis before, a beautiful slow-swaying curtain the colour of new grass, but brighter. When she had lived with her brother, sometimes the aurora came with General Winter, as if it were a consolation for the cold and death he normally brought. But never before had she seen the colours so alive. They did not just sway and flutter, they danced. There was green, of course, fresh and bright and so unlike the normal colours of winter. It hung high and low and all over the sky, so bright at the horizon it looked like a sunrise. And there was crimson, such a stark contrast it was startling. It flickered like a flame, appearing at the edges of the green curtain, only to disappear and reappear elsewhere. And highest of all, the deep, regal violet. It stood steady, only moving and swaying the slightest amount.
All at once Ukraine felt overwhelmed, and turned away from the striking, strange beauty in the sky to look at Canada. He watched the colours dance and sway unflinchingly, his breath coming from his mouth in thick clouds. The green and red and purple danced and shimmered in his eyes. He was both entranced by the sky above him and entrancing to Ukraine.
Slowly, she looked away from Canada to look at the aurora again. The child within her jumped a little as she stared, gave her the slightest kick. It seemed to sense the magic in the night air, seemed to want to be part of it. To her, it made sense. The child was conceived on this land, under this beautiful sky. She could not help but feel that the child would be born on this land as well.
Canada wrapped one arm around her waist and turned to face her. Ukraine smiled up at him, set her hand over his at her side. He kissed that smile with cold, snow-frozen lips quickly and then made a silly little grimace.
“It’s getting a little cold, isn’t it?” he muttered, pressing his cool forehead to hers nonetheless.
“Just a little,” Ukraine couldn’t help but tease, trying and failing to lean against Canada. Her belly was beginning to get into the way. Canada laughed easily and softly, turning back towards the house. They slipped inside and stripped down to their nightclothes again as quietly as they could, and made their way hand-in-hand to their bedroom. The bed was cold again, but Ukraine already felt warmer as Canada brought an arm over her side, his hand laying gently against her stomach. His chest pressed against her back through their clothes.
They wriggled into a comfortable position, bid each other good night, and settled back down to sleep.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Canada and Ukraine
Rating: G
Warnings: Randomly pregnant Ukraine, no attempts at historical accuracy, attempts at using lots of description in one paragraph (which is not my style.)
Summary: The Northern Lights have seen queer sights...
Northern Saskatchewan was no place for a child to be born, and Canada knew that. But he also knew that there was little chance of them making back south before the snow fell, a mistake on his part, and so they had been trapped in a small village all winter. It was not as though they were really in any sort of danger, the community had adopted them quite willing and made sure both Ukraine and her baby were quite healthy and as happy as possible, considering where they were.
One family with an extra room in their home (a son of theirs had recently left their home, to find his fortune in a city to the south) had given them a place to stay. Whether it was because they were naturally hospitable or because they were born-in-Canada Ukrainians was unknown to the pair of nations, but they were grateful either way.
Their room was not especially warm at night, despite the careful precautions to keep the cold out and the only consolation was the layers of blankets that covered the small bed. And it was quite small. Perhaps a single young man would find it comfortably large, but two adults, one of them quite pregnant, was simply too much.
Not that Ukraine minded too much. She liked being pressed up against Canada, her back to his front, one of his hands resting on the swell of her stomach. It was a comfort to have him so close, especially when blizzards howled and the bed seemed particularly cold.
It was the distinctive chill of Canada’s lack of presence that awoke her. She turned over, tried to see if the door was open in the absolute darkness of the winter midnight. The soft noise of footsteps told her it was, and that Canada was re-entering their room.
“Katyusha,” he whispered gently, “are you awake?”
“Yes,” she mumbled back, trying to hold her eyes open.
“There’s something you should see,” he told her, as quiet as ever. “Come out of bed, I’ll get your winter clothes.” Now that she was used to the blackness of the room it didn’t seem quite so dark to Ukraine anymore, and she could see Canada’s outline in the doorway. It looked like he was dressed in his heavy coat and wore his highest boots over his flannel nightclothes.
Ukraine stood slowly, one hand on her belly and the other at her back. When she was up on her feet she made her way awkwardly to the front door. The whole house was uncomfortably cold, despite the stove in the kitchen still burning. Canada met her at halfway and helped her into her coat and boots and wrapped an afghan around her for good measure.
“It’s cold,” he warned, his eyes bright behind his glasses. He took her hands in his and brought her outside. The cold was fantastic, immediately stinging at her bare legs and nose and eyelashes. A little snow fluttered down despite the clearness of the sky. It was soft and powdery and finer than sand, and it settled against the afghan and Canada’s coat and ended up in the hair of both of them.
They shuffled forward a few steps together and then Canada told her to turn around. As she obeyed Ukraine felt all the breath leave her lungs.
She’d seen the aurora borealis before, a beautiful slow-swaying curtain the colour of new grass, but brighter. When she had lived with her brother, sometimes the aurora came with General Winter, as if it were a consolation for the cold and death he normally brought. But never before had she seen the colours so alive. They did not just sway and flutter, they danced. There was green, of course, fresh and bright and so unlike the normal colours of winter. It hung high and low and all over the sky, so bright at the horizon it looked like a sunrise. And there was crimson, such a stark contrast it was startling. It flickered like a flame, appearing at the edges of the green curtain, only to disappear and reappear elsewhere. And highest of all, the deep, regal violet. It stood steady, only moving and swaying the slightest amount.
All at once Ukraine felt overwhelmed, and turned away from the striking, strange beauty in the sky to look at Canada. He watched the colours dance and sway unflinchingly, his breath coming from his mouth in thick clouds. The green and red and purple danced and shimmered in his eyes. He was both entranced by the sky above him and entrancing to Ukraine.
Slowly, she looked away from Canada to look at the aurora again. The child within her jumped a little as she stared, gave her the slightest kick. It seemed to sense the magic in the night air, seemed to want to be part of it. To her, it made sense. The child was conceived on this land, under this beautiful sky. She could not help but feel that the child would be born on this land as well.
Canada wrapped one arm around her waist and turned to face her. Ukraine smiled up at him, set her hand over his at her side. He kissed that smile with cold, snow-frozen lips quickly and then made a silly little grimace.
“It’s getting a little cold, isn’t it?” he muttered, pressing his cool forehead to hers nonetheless.
“Just a little,” Ukraine couldn’t help but tease, trying and failing to lean against Canada. Her belly was beginning to get into the way. Canada laughed easily and softly, turning back towards the house. They slipped inside and stripped down to their nightclothes again as quietly as they could, and made their way hand-in-hand to their bedroom. The bed was cold again, but Ukraine already felt warmer as Canada brought an arm over her side, his hand laying gently against her stomach. His chest pressed against her back through their clothes.
They wriggled into a comfortable position, bid each other good night, and settled back down to sleep.