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hetalia2011-12-11 05:31 pm
oftheorchids.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2011-12-11 05:31 pm
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Other Side 4/4-Belarus
Title: Tree
Author/Artist: me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Belarus, America, Boss, AmeriBel
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Dubious fluff
Summary: Even the snow in Belarus was tinged with grey. But there were two things she could always count on to be the purest things in her life.
There was a field near Belarus’s house. It was literally a stone’s throw away—she had tried, once, when she had been particularly bored. A ten-minute walk would take her to a lone tree, which had been growing there since she had been annexed into the USSR. The last view of her home she’d gotten was the little sprout growing in her field, green in the middle of all the destruction. She had held on to the image in the bleak grey room in Russia’s house and lived by the little green sprout. It was tall and very strong, braving all four seasons and the thunderstorms Minsk was prone to in a certain month. Belarus considered it a friend, almost. It was a big, strong friend who had been there since the end of the darkest period of her existence. She had once leaned against the tree and talked about herself for two solid hours, telling it everything from her life with Lithuania as the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, to the tumor she still had from Chernobyl. It knew everything about her, and it had somehow managed to stay alive in the bleak place Belarus called home. She was grateful to it, as stupid as that was. Belarus had barely anyone to be grateful for, anyway. Adding a tree to that short list wouldn’t harm anyone.
On the first day of a particularly bleak December, Belarus decided to take a walk to avoid the talk of independence and aren’t you happy Bielorussia? ‘I hate being told what to feel.’ Belarus thought, puffing a breath, mildly happy when it turned into a cloud of water vapour. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, walking to her tree. On the way, she pulled a face and wrapped the coat closer to her body. It was getting colder, and soon she would be writing appeals to her boss just for permission to light a fire in the fireplace. Perhaps he was worried that the smoke would alert someone to her location, but she felt that that was foolish. Who was going to pick one random column of smoke out of many and follow it to her? Nobody. Her boss was just being as paranoid as ever. But still, he was a rather sensible man, if a little overprotective of her. Frowning, Belarus concentrated on the crunching sound her boots made on the snow. It wasn’t completely white; the snow in Belarus everywhere was permanently tinged with grey. Belarus didn’t know what made it that way and wasn’t interested in knowing. Knowing wouldn’t take away the grey from something that was supposedly pure. Sensing that her tree was more or less in front of her, Belarus stopped and looked up. Sure enough, there was the sturdy old tree, as tall as ever. Leaning against the trunk, Belarus let her mind wander as she watched her breath condense.
“Hello there, friend. How are you today? It’s rather cold, isn’t it? In weather like this, I always feel like going into hibernation. Sleep’s the best, I never dream when I sleep. When I do, it’s nightmares. Sad. I can’t remember the last time I had a happy dream.” Belarus said, laughing a breathy laugh that she didn’t quite mean. She felt her unhappiness and need to be cynical melt away, instead leaving behind an uncharacteristically content girl. The snow gathering on a leafless branch slid off, striking her dead on the head. Belarus laughed the same breathy laugh and closed her eyes, for once not seeing the horrendous bloody images she usually did. It was always by her tree when she felt the most at peace…
And perhaps that was why she was so unprepared for the sudden, foreign chuckle. “Perhaps if you dreamt of me, you’d be happy in your sleep for once. Or would that be a nightmare?”
Shooting up off the trunk of her tree, Belarus’s eyes widened in shock and she fumbled for her knife. All previous allusions to peace evaporated instantly. A warm hand gripped her wrist and brought her knuckles to the owner’s lips. A rather suicidal move, actually. Her other hand shot for her knife and she attempted to stab it into the person’s arm. He quickly withdrew, laughing an obnoxious laugh. Belarus looked up, already aware of who he was.
“America,” she said sourly, placing the knife back into her coat. “You could’ve just told my boss that you were here. He actually tolerates you.” Unlike me. The last part went unsaid, but both parties knew that she was thinking it.
“Aw, don’t be so gloomy, Natya.” America dismissed her foul mood, making Belarus’s eye twitch. “You’re free! Independent! Think of that.” Instead of cheering her up, Belarus’s scowl deepened.
“Don’t call me that, idiot. The correct dimunitive is Natasha, anyway. Besides, why are you here?” Belarus replied hotly. America couldn’t tell if she was blushing, since her face was already red from the cold. After staring intently for a moment and making Belarus glare back, he shrugged and grabbed her hands, wanting but not daring to wrap his arms around her just to annoy the irate girl. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her, perhaps a bit too much.
“Whatever. Natya sounds cuter. And if Natasha’s correct, then I’ll be the only person to call you Natya. I like that.” America shrugged, bringing her freezing hands up and brushing the snow off her old gloves. “And I’m here on official business. Independence stuff. Really confidential.” Pointedly ignoring how Belarus tried to pull away, he began rubbing her delicate hands with his larger, warmer ones. He could’ve sworn that Belarus was blushing, but he couldn’t really tell. She scowled and let America warm her hands up, wondering how her mortal enemy, an enemy of the USSR, could suddenly become a friend within such a short time. Well, he had granted her her long-awaited independence, she could give him that, but why had she so readily accepted the man? Perhaps it’s the sentiment of my people speaking. Belarus thought, well aware of her reddening cheeks. She glanced up when America heaved a sigh of despair. Her eyes met his for a little longer than necessary before she quickly glanced away.
“You’re freezing cold, Natya. We should go back indoors.” America said, laying a hand on the trunk of her tree. He smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. “You’ll be there, right?” Belarus briefly considered slapping his hand off her tree, but the idea evaporated like a spring dream when he began smiling. Frowning to counter his unreasonable joy, Belarus gripped his wrist and pulled him away from her tree. She barely noticed when he slipped his hand up to intertwine his fingers with hers, instead unfathomably annoyed with the fact that America had cut her break short. She had been able to forget for awhile before he arrived, too. When they reached the slight slope that marked the start of the field, America stopped abruptly. Belarus began to slide down the slope at the sudden lack of motion, and America yanked her back and held her close, taking the opportunity to hold her wrists tightly. Belarus yelped in surprise, immediately trying to fight her way out of his sudden embrace. She could feel America’s lips pull up in a smile she could not see, and she tried not to think about how warm he was.
“Just taking my chances,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.” And with that, America pulled away and jumped down the slope, whistling happily as if he hadn’t indirectly admitted something he shouldn’t. Belarus stared after his retreating figure, surprising herself with how familiar she was with his person. The way he walked, the way his cowlick would droop in cold weather--he had become a constant presence, without her permission or knowledge.
Belarus wasn't even sure if she really resented that.
I haven't given up, guys. xD Surprised? Not very many historical references here. Just a conclusion to Belarus's part of the story.
Author/Artist: me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Belarus, America, Boss, AmeriBel
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Dubious fluff
Summary: Even the snow in Belarus was tinged with grey. But there were two things she could always count on to be the purest things in her life.
There was a field near Belarus’s house. It was literally a stone’s throw away—she had tried, once, when she had been particularly bored. A ten-minute walk would take her to a lone tree, which had been growing there since she had been annexed into the USSR. The last view of her home she’d gotten was the little sprout growing in her field, green in the middle of all the destruction. She had held on to the image in the bleak grey room in Russia’s house and lived by the little green sprout. It was tall and very strong, braving all four seasons and the thunderstorms Minsk was prone to in a certain month. Belarus considered it a friend, almost. It was a big, strong friend who had been there since the end of the darkest period of her existence. She had once leaned against the tree and talked about herself for two solid hours, telling it everything from her life with Lithuania as the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, to the tumor she still had from Chernobyl. It knew everything about her, and it had somehow managed to stay alive in the bleak place Belarus called home. She was grateful to it, as stupid as that was. Belarus had barely anyone to be grateful for, anyway. Adding a tree to that short list wouldn’t harm anyone.
On the first day of a particularly bleak December, Belarus decided to take a walk to avoid the talk of independence and aren’t you happy Bielorussia? ‘I hate being told what to feel.’ Belarus thought, puffing a breath, mildly happy when it turned into a cloud of water vapour. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, walking to her tree. On the way, she pulled a face and wrapped the coat closer to her body. It was getting colder, and soon she would be writing appeals to her boss just for permission to light a fire in the fireplace. Perhaps he was worried that the smoke would alert someone to her location, but she felt that that was foolish. Who was going to pick one random column of smoke out of many and follow it to her? Nobody. Her boss was just being as paranoid as ever. But still, he was a rather sensible man, if a little overprotective of her. Frowning, Belarus concentrated on the crunching sound her boots made on the snow. It wasn’t completely white; the snow in Belarus everywhere was permanently tinged with grey. Belarus didn’t know what made it that way and wasn’t interested in knowing. Knowing wouldn’t take away the grey from something that was supposedly pure. Sensing that her tree was more or less in front of her, Belarus stopped and looked up. Sure enough, there was the sturdy old tree, as tall as ever. Leaning against the trunk, Belarus let her mind wander as she watched her breath condense.
“Hello there, friend. How are you today? It’s rather cold, isn’t it? In weather like this, I always feel like going into hibernation. Sleep’s the best, I never dream when I sleep. When I do, it’s nightmares. Sad. I can’t remember the last time I had a happy dream.” Belarus said, laughing a breathy laugh that she didn’t quite mean. She felt her unhappiness and need to be cynical melt away, instead leaving behind an uncharacteristically content girl. The snow gathering on a leafless branch slid off, striking her dead on the head. Belarus laughed the same breathy laugh and closed her eyes, for once not seeing the horrendous bloody images she usually did. It was always by her tree when she felt the most at peace…
And perhaps that was why she was so unprepared for the sudden, foreign chuckle. “Perhaps if you dreamt of me, you’d be happy in your sleep for once. Or would that be a nightmare?”
Shooting up off the trunk of her tree, Belarus’s eyes widened in shock and she fumbled for her knife. All previous allusions to peace evaporated instantly. A warm hand gripped her wrist and brought her knuckles to the owner’s lips. A rather suicidal move, actually. Her other hand shot for her knife and she attempted to stab it into the person’s arm. He quickly withdrew, laughing an obnoxious laugh. Belarus looked up, already aware of who he was.
“America,” she said sourly, placing the knife back into her coat. “You could’ve just told my boss that you were here. He actually tolerates you.” Unlike me. The last part went unsaid, but both parties knew that she was thinking it.
“Aw, don’t be so gloomy, Natya.” America dismissed her foul mood, making Belarus’s eye twitch. “You’re free! Independent! Think of that.” Instead of cheering her up, Belarus’s scowl deepened.
“Don’t call me that, idiot. The correct dimunitive is Natasha, anyway. Besides, why are you here?” Belarus replied hotly. America couldn’t tell if she was blushing, since her face was already red from the cold. After staring intently for a moment and making Belarus glare back, he shrugged and grabbed her hands, wanting but not daring to wrap his arms around her just to annoy the irate girl. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her, perhaps a bit too much.
“Whatever. Natya sounds cuter. And if Natasha’s correct, then I’ll be the only person to call you Natya. I like that.” America shrugged, bringing her freezing hands up and brushing the snow off her old gloves. “And I’m here on official business. Independence stuff. Really confidential.” Pointedly ignoring how Belarus tried to pull away, he began rubbing her delicate hands with his larger, warmer ones. He could’ve sworn that Belarus was blushing, but he couldn’t really tell. She scowled and let America warm her hands up, wondering how her mortal enemy, an enemy of the USSR, could suddenly become a friend within such a short time. Well, he had granted her her long-awaited independence, she could give him that, but why had she so readily accepted the man? Perhaps it’s the sentiment of my people speaking. Belarus thought, well aware of her reddening cheeks. She glanced up when America heaved a sigh of despair. Her eyes met his for a little longer than necessary before she quickly glanced away.
“You’re freezing cold, Natya. We should go back indoors.” America said, laying a hand on the trunk of her tree. He smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. “You’ll be there, right?” Belarus briefly considered slapping his hand off her tree, but the idea evaporated like a spring dream when he began smiling. Frowning to counter his unreasonable joy, Belarus gripped his wrist and pulled him away from her tree. She barely noticed when he slipped his hand up to intertwine his fingers with hers, instead unfathomably annoyed with the fact that America had cut her break short. She had been able to forget for awhile before he arrived, too. When they reached the slight slope that marked the start of the field, America stopped abruptly. Belarus began to slide down the slope at the sudden lack of motion, and America yanked her back and held her close, taking the opportunity to hold her wrists tightly. Belarus yelped in surprise, immediately trying to fight her way out of his sudden embrace. She could feel America’s lips pull up in a smile she could not see, and she tried not to think about how warm he was.
“Just taking my chances,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.” And with that, America pulled away and jumped down the slope, whistling happily as if he hadn’t indirectly admitted something he shouldn’t. Belarus stared after his retreating figure, surprising herself with how familiar she was with his person. The way he walked, the way his cowlick would droop in cold weather--he had become a constant presence, without her permission or knowledge.
Belarus wasn't even sure if she really resented that.
I haven't given up, guys. xD Surprised? Not very many historical references here. Just a conclusion to Belarus's part of the story.
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