Hello~! My first fanfic ever, despite lurking about and reading for years, XD. I'm extremely preoccupied with getting ready with my first year of college (doing scholarships, trying to find a job before September) but if this receives any decent amount of approval, I just might continue. I was getting tired of not contributing and I decided to begin with the small but devoted fandom of Hetalia!

The Things He Carried

Matthew took a deep breath, attempting to stifle the immense irritation he was experiencing at the moment. It seemed as though it was his lot in life to forever be ignored. The day had begun relatively pleasant; what with the knowledge that his currency was finally beginning to reach some semblance of stability, he had expected only improvement.

'When will I learn I'm much too optimistic?' He thought mournfully. His hands fretfully squeezed his life long companions' white fur.

"Who?" The bear questioned, tilting his head up.

"Canada," Matthew answered with an indulgent chuckle.

Kumajirou snuffled uncaringly, returning to his perch upon his master's lap, burrowing deeper beneath his stomach.

The blond sighed, observing the goings on before him, idly patting Kumagurou's pelt. Germany was quietly playing Go with Japan, Italy once again doling out pasta to all the members of the G8 Summit, ('Except Me', Matthew thought exasperatedly) Alfred was gesturing wildly, ignoring Arthur's heated protests, Francis attempting to goad Greece into actually waking up – wait, where was Russia? Cuba and Switzerland has taken their leave the moment the meeting had ended; those who remained of the G8 simply had nothing better to do.

"Kolkolkolkol…" Matthew heard uttered softly. He whipped his head around, wincing at the whiplash, but persistently examining the location of the laughter in question. The Russian's attention appeared to be consumed on a game console and TV in the corner of the room.

'Why do we even have games in such in an important – Never mind, I'm better off not knowing most likely…'

"Ah! Comrade Matvey! Will you not join me?!" Ivan called, not even looking in the Canadian's direction.

'Eek! How did he even know I was looking his way?!' Canada moaned lowly.

Moving hesitantly closer, Matthew viewed that the console was in fact untouched, what was playing on TV was a hockey game. He brightened, he had made sure to program his TV to record it while he was out, expecting the meeting to drag on, but I appeared he could watch it live.

Grabbing a chair, he hastily sat down, not noticing the other countries interested looks.

"…Take that, c'est vache Russia! Mon gens are unbeatable." The usually timid Country gloated.

"нет, the game is still on, Comrade." The Russian corrected with a toothy smirk, he paused, "Perhaps a wager…?"

"You name it mon ami, I have no doubt my team will come through!" Matthew replied, unheeding the excited air hanging over Ivan's visage.

"Отлично превосходное." He murmured, lacing his finger together, beneath his chin.

"Tant pis!" Matthew shrieked, watching the Russian hockey team win in the last fifteen seconds of the game. He turned slowly towards Ivan, instantly backing away from his triumphant smile…


The title is based on a gem of a book called The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien. If you have time, actually even if you don't, make time to read it.


C'est vache! = You suck (at least according to my Honors French IV Teacher XP)

Gens = people

Нет = no

mon ami = my friend

Отлично превосходное = excellent

Tant pis = What the hell (at least according to Google, my French teacher refuses to teach us anything remotely resembling an expletive, sucks is the closest my class got XD)

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