Painting Love, a Hetalia fanfiction: Chapter Two

    Let me hear your voice within the darkness...

Alfred hissed in annoyance, going through yet another tub of ice cream and earning looks of disgust from both Arthur and Francis. The respective arch-enemies exchanged a long glance before nodding and edging closer to the much younger country. Francis wrapped a hand around his shoulders, "Now, Alfred, please stop making all of us sick and explain what the problem is, non?" The Frenchman received a glare that could've melted ice from his enemy on the American's other side.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, uh..." Alfred glanced around the empty room and leaned in conspiratorially, "I think Russia's watching me, man. And it's freaking the shit outta me." Francis tilted his hand in a signal to go on. "You'd think it's normal, right? Well, I heard from Japan that he had some serious inner turmoil, whatever the hell that means... But then he says that I caused it. And I don't even know what I did!"

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking before repeating aloud, "'You commie bastard, you think you own the world!' And during the Space Race you screamed at him so long you lost your voice... 'Your beer or ale or whatever the crap is tastes like shit.' You insist on bothering him about Lithuania, not to mention his scarf and his sisters. You dredge up your victories and shove them in his face..." The Englishman popped his hand on his palm, "I think I've got it!"

His adopted brother, having tuned him out after the phrase 'Space Race', shot up and grabbed Arthur's shoulders, "What, what, what? Come on, dude, spill, I gotta know!" His brother pretended to think for a moment longer before responding.

"You've taunted and teased him to the point of no return, and he's finally snapped." There was a very long pause, in which both the French and Englishman watched Alfred curl up slowly in a tiny ball and begin rocking himself back and forth. "...Alfred?" The Brit questioned, touching his shoulder.

The burger-loving boy shrunk away from his touch, "Ohhh, shit, man, I'm gonna diiie..."

Francis shot Arthur a look, "You fool, you've made the situation worse! Now, now, Alfred, don't listen to the stuffy English-idiot. Let big brother France outline the problem for you. It all has to do with love!" Arthur, who had been sputtering over the casual insult, scoffed loudly.

"Love? Just how wine-soaked is your brain, frog?"

Francis frowned, waving a finger, "Don't giggle, it is the truth! Why, it only takes a few moments to realize it, once one is watching." The brothers looked at him, Alfred with curiosity and fear, Arthur with disdain and annoyance. "It is a little interesting, considering that you have a healthy dislike for one another, but I can spot Russia's true intent." Arthur shook his head, getting up to make tea but still listening. "Russia follows you about like a puppy, and he is quite the attention-seeker nowadays. Every time you've spoken to me, Prussia, Germany, or even Lithuania, he's immediately appeared and said something, hasn't he?"

Alfred nodded hurriedly, "So what's the problem?! Dude, come on, Imma go insane if you keep this up? Is shit about to hit the fan?!"

France smiled knowingly, "Simply put, dear Russia is madly in love wit-!" None of the three were expecting the extremely loud, echoing CLANG! to ring out. It was followed by France crumpling, revealing the devil himself. Arthur berated himself, that was a bit harsh. Perhaps the devil's minion? Advocate? Oh, much better ring to that one! He snapped out of his ramblings just in time to see the former-Soviet-leader grab America's shirt and yank him close.

"You are free this Sunday, da?"

Alfred blinked before nodding fearfully. What a weird question... He flinched upon realizing that gripped tightly in Ivan's other hand was his trusty water pipe. Turning his sky eyes back to Ivan's face, he fought to urge to have a certain accident he hadn't had since he was three.

"Then, we will go out drinking. It is my treat." Ivan unceremoniously dropped the American in a heap and left, kicking Francis and stomping on his left hand before slamming the door. Francis raised his head and groaned.

"Ahhh, that hurt. On a happier note. It seems you've been asked on a date, Alfred. This is a joyous thing!" Alfred stared.

"A d- d- date? With R- Russia...?"

With that comment, there was a smash of fine china as Arthur passed out.