[fan fic] Tulips and Orgasmic Pancakes
Title: Tulips and Orgasmic Pancakes
Characters/Pairings: Ukraine, Netherlands, Canada. Canada/Ukraine
Rating: G
Warnings: Use of the word "orgasmic"?
Summary: Canada has it rough sometimes, being mistaken for his much more obnoxious brother all the time and whatnot, but thankfully he has his two best friends to cheer him up.
As soon as the meeting was finished Ukraine stood up, gathered her papers, dodged her little brother and sister and neighbours, and made her way to the double doors. Netherlands, who sat further down the table, was already there. They shared a short look and proceeded, side-by-side, down the hall.
“He’s prob’ly just sulkin’ in his room right now,” Netherlands said, smiling a little. Ukraine only managed a half-smile. “God, why aren’t France an’ England comin’, too?” he sighed, sounding annoyed.
“Perhaps they are busy,” Ukraine suggested. She didn’t really believe that, but she felt it was only polite to give them a little benefit of the doubt.
In reality, she doubted they were really concerned at all. Canada had been mistaken for his brother often enough, and he’d always been forgiving, if not slightly sarcastic, about it. They had probably seen him leave a room like that before. It likely hadn’t tugged at their heartstrings as it had Ukraine’s. It still stung a little to think about, actually.
He stood, looking far wearier than he had been since the October Crisis, and merely said a tired, “I’m Canada,” before leaving the room.
Ukraine ducked her head and rubbed at the beginning of tears in her eyes. Netherlands offered her a handkerchief and continued in his long, even strides.
“I owe ‘im my life, y’know,” he said. He was looking straight ahead, but his eyes flickered down to her and a dash of a smile touched his mouth. Ukraine knew the story, knew it very well, but allowed Netherlands to continue. “During World War Two, he was part of the group that liberated us from Germany. He gave up a lot of his rations to me. I prob’ly would’ve starved otherwise.”
“I remember,” Ukraine said.
“He took in my royal family, too. When one of the princesses was born there, the maternity ward was turned into international territory so she would only be Dutch.” He smiled fully this time. “We send him tulips for that. Twenty thousand of them every year. I go when I can, too. See his Tulip Festival.”
“I’ve been there as well. Your tulips are beautiful.” Ukraine handed the handkerchief back. There was a pause and they made a right turn, to the lobby. “Matthew took me in when I was part of my little brother Russia. Gave my Anabaptists special privileges when they came. He was exceptionally kind to them, when they… we needed help.”
“He never stops talkin’ about you, y’know,” Netherlands chucked. “I think he likes you.” Ukraine flushed and stared at her shoes as they walked. The cool evening air of a European autumn felt good on her burning cheeks. Netherlands took her elbow and guided her to the crosswalk.
“Yeah, every time I go to his place he’ll always be sayin’ how you sent him a letter or that in a few days you’d be flyin’ over to see ‘im. Was kinda annoyin‘, actually.”
“O-Oh… I’m sorry,” Ukraine said before stumbling on the curb.
“Don’t be,” he replied, laughing. “It’s also kinda cute.” He stopped. “Did I just call Matt cute?” He shuddered at the thought and continued. Ukraine laughed as well this time.
Canada’s hotel room was suspiciously quiet when the pair got to the door. “Damn, I shoulda brought a tulip,” Netherlands said softly.
“You guys can come in, the door’s unlocked,” Canada called from beyond the door. Both Netherlands and Ukraine jumped, not expecting to have been heard, but the former pushed the door open. Cold air, only two or three degrees Celsius, poured out of the room.
“Matt, why’s it freezin' in here?” Netherlands asked, closing the door behind him reluctantly.
“Calms me down,” he replied, lying stretched out on the floor. “I used to live in the tundra, after all.” He sat up. His lips were tinged blue with the cold, but he seemed a lot more content. At least compared to how he’d been at the meeting. “I’ll get the A/C off,” he said, standing slowly. There was a faint indent in the carpet where he’d been lying. Ukraine shivered, and Canada double-timed it to the noisy air conditioner. Netherlands dropped his jacket over her shoulders and stretched his long arms to the ceiling.
“You feelin’ better now?” Netherlands asked, his eyes on Canada’s back.
“Much,” Canada replied, almost cheerfully, turning off the noisy machine and opening the window. The air outside was downright tropical in comparison. “I really shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s not Saudi’s fault that I look like Alfred, after all.” At which point Netherlands slammed his fist against a wall. Both Canada and Ukraine looked at him in surprise.
“Why’re you sayin’ that?” Netherlands demanded. “I haven’t had any trouble tellin’ you apart since the liberation. Neither has Ukraine, right?” She nodded slowly in agreement. “You may not be as distinct as France or anything, but it sure isn’t an excuse anymore.” It was the truth. Canada may have resembled America, but he’d done a lot that made him seperate from his brother.
“I just have to try harder to be distinct, I guess,” Canada replied softly. His voice always dipped into a whispery tone when he was about to cry, but neither seemed to realise it until tears were already rolling down his face. Apparently his calm wasn’t as complete as they’d thought.
Netherlands made a noise that was halfway between a grumble, because clearly Canada hadn’t gotten what he was trying to say, and a sympathetic hum. He clapped an arm around Canada’s shoulders and let the man sniffle and fight back his tears in his shoulder. Ukraine stepped forward and held Canada from behind, pressing her cheek to the place between his shoulder blades, listening to the rapid-fire beat of his heart.
“Je me souveins,” Netherlands said. “I remember that you’re Canada.” Canada clutched the other man a little tighter and hiccupped.
When Canada finally regained his composure, he offered to cook the two something for supper.
“…Pancakes?” Netherlands finally asked, looking hopeful. “Prussia said that when you make them they’re orgasmic.” Canada flushed a little, because of course Prussia would say something like that, but agreed to make the breakfast food. Their impromptu supper went over well (Netherlands agreed with Prussia’s description of the stereotypical Canadian breakfast with a loud laugh), and by the end of it Canada seemed sincerely brightened.
“Best get some sleep. Tomorrow’s Finland’s turn, an’ he likes to complain,” Netherlands said, retrieving his jacket from Ukraine. The room had warmed up considerably, but it was still fairly cold compared to the rest of the hotel. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he said, heading down the hall to his own room.
Ukraine stood on the threshold for a moment longer. There she threw her arms around Canada’s shoulders and leaned against him. After a moment she kissed his mouth softly, cheeks burning red (so were his, she noted happily). He kissed her back with equal softness, and held his arms around her waist. When they parted she smiled and let him go with a “good night” and went off to her own room as well. Canada closed the door behind him.
Characters/Pairings: Ukraine, Netherlands, Canada. Canada/Ukraine
Rating: G
Warnings: Use of the word "orgasmic"?
Summary: Canada has it rough sometimes, being mistaken for his much more obnoxious brother all the time and whatnot, but thankfully he has his two best friends to cheer him up.
As soon as the meeting was finished Ukraine stood up, gathered her papers, dodged her little brother and sister and neighbours, and made her way to the double doors. Netherlands, who sat further down the table, was already there. They shared a short look and proceeded, side-by-side, down the hall.
“He’s prob’ly just sulkin’ in his room right now,” Netherlands said, smiling a little. Ukraine only managed a half-smile. “God, why aren’t France an’ England comin’, too?” he sighed, sounding annoyed.
“Perhaps they are busy,” Ukraine suggested. She didn’t really believe that, but she felt it was only polite to give them a little benefit of the doubt.
In reality, she doubted they were really concerned at all. Canada had been mistaken for his brother often enough, and he’d always been forgiving, if not slightly sarcastic, about it. They had probably seen him leave a room like that before. It likely hadn’t tugged at their heartstrings as it had Ukraine’s. It still stung a little to think about, actually.
He stood, looking far wearier than he had been since the October Crisis, and merely said a tired, “I’m Canada,” before leaving the room.
Ukraine ducked her head and rubbed at the beginning of tears in her eyes. Netherlands offered her a handkerchief and continued in his long, even strides.
“I owe ‘im my life, y’know,” he said. He was looking straight ahead, but his eyes flickered down to her and a dash of a smile touched his mouth. Ukraine knew the story, knew it very well, but allowed Netherlands to continue. “During World War Two, he was part of the group that liberated us from Germany. He gave up a lot of his rations to me. I prob’ly would’ve starved otherwise.”
“I remember,” Ukraine said.
“He took in my royal family, too. When one of the princesses was born there, the maternity ward was turned into international territory so she would only be Dutch.” He smiled fully this time. “We send him tulips for that. Twenty thousand of them every year. I go when I can, too. See his Tulip Festival.”
“I’ve been there as well. Your tulips are beautiful.” Ukraine handed the handkerchief back. There was a pause and they made a right turn, to the lobby. “Matthew took me in when I was part of my little brother Russia. Gave my Anabaptists special privileges when they came. He was exceptionally kind to them, when they… we needed help.”
“He never stops talkin’ about you, y’know,” Netherlands chucked. “I think he likes you.” Ukraine flushed and stared at her shoes as they walked. The cool evening air of a European autumn felt good on her burning cheeks. Netherlands took her elbow and guided her to the crosswalk.
“Yeah, every time I go to his place he’ll always be sayin’ how you sent him a letter or that in a few days you’d be flyin’ over to see ‘im. Was kinda annoyin‘, actually.”
“O-Oh… I’m sorry,” Ukraine said before stumbling on the curb.
“Don’t be,” he replied, laughing. “It’s also kinda cute.” He stopped. “Did I just call Matt cute?” He shuddered at the thought and continued. Ukraine laughed as well this time.
Canada’s hotel room was suspiciously quiet when the pair got to the door. “Damn, I shoulda brought a tulip,” Netherlands said softly.
“You guys can come in, the door’s unlocked,” Canada called from beyond the door. Both Netherlands and Ukraine jumped, not expecting to have been heard, but the former pushed the door open. Cold air, only two or three degrees Celsius, poured out of the room.
“Matt, why’s it freezin' in here?” Netherlands asked, closing the door behind him reluctantly.
“Calms me down,” he replied, lying stretched out on the floor. “I used to live in the tundra, after all.” He sat up. His lips were tinged blue with the cold, but he seemed a lot more content. At least compared to how he’d been at the meeting. “I’ll get the A/C off,” he said, standing slowly. There was a faint indent in the carpet where he’d been lying. Ukraine shivered, and Canada double-timed it to the noisy air conditioner. Netherlands dropped his jacket over her shoulders and stretched his long arms to the ceiling.
“You feelin’ better now?” Netherlands asked, his eyes on Canada’s back.
“Much,” Canada replied, almost cheerfully, turning off the noisy machine and opening the window. The air outside was downright tropical in comparison. “I really shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s not Saudi’s fault that I look like Alfred, after all.” At which point Netherlands slammed his fist against a wall. Both Canada and Ukraine looked at him in surprise.
“Why’re you sayin’ that?” Netherlands demanded. “I haven’t had any trouble tellin’ you apart since the liberation. Neither has Ukraine, right?” She nodded slowly in agreement. “You may not be as distinct as France or anything, but it sure isn’t an excuse anymore.” It was the truth. Canada may have resembled America, but he’d done a lot that made him seperate from his brother.
“I just have to try harder to be distinct, I guess,” Canada replied softly. His voice always dipped into a whispery tone when he was about to cry, but neither seemed to realise it until tears were already rolling down his face. Apparently his calm wasn’t as complete as they’d thought.
Netherlands made a noise that was halfway between a grumble, because clearly Canada hadn’t gotten what he was trying to say, and a sympathetic hum. He clapped an arm around Canada’s shoulders and let the man sniffle and fight back his tears in his shoulder. Ukraine stepped forward and held Canada from behind, pressing her cheek to the place between his shoulder blades, listening to the rapid-fire beat of his heart.
“Je me souveins,” Netherlands said. “I remember that you’re Canada.” Canada clutched the other man a little tighter and hiccupped.
When Canada finally regained his composure, he offered to cook the two something for supper.
“…Pancakes?” Netherlands finally asked, looking hopeful. “Prussia said that when you make them they’re orgasmic.” Canada flushed a little, because of course Prussia would say something like that, but agreed to make the breakfast food. Their impromptu supper went over well (Netherlands agreed with Prussia’s description of the stereotypical Canadian breakfast with a loud laugh), and by the end of it Canada seemed sincerely brightened.
“Best get some sleep. Tomorrow’s Finland’s turn, an’ he likes to complain,” Netherlands said, retrieving his jacket from Ukraine. The room had warmed up considerably, but it was still fairly cold compared to the rest of the hotel. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he said, heading down the hall to his own room.
Ukraine stood on the threshold for a moment longer. There she threw her arms around Canada’s shoulders and leaned against him. After a moment she kissed his mouth softly, cheeks burning red (so were his, she noted happily). He kissed her back with equal softness, and held his arms around her waist. When they parted she smiled and let him go with a “good night” and went off to her own room as well. Canada closed the door behind him.