A Waltz in the Dark (Norway + OC Hetalia fanfiction)

Chapter 51

The following scene is written by Komeko-chan! (And it is probably one of my most favorite scenes in this book.) Enjoy!

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         Kaliningrad lost count of how many songs they danced to, Russia at moments twirling her around and others resting his forehead against her's, murmuring sweet nothings in his rolling mother tongue. He was so abnormally happy, and she seemed to have caught his cheerful attitude as well for she forgot entirely about Norway's cold stare and the crowded room around them and instead was consumed by the sweet music and the gentle touch of Russia's hands.

    The spell was only broken when France sidled up beside them. There was a large grin on his face, almost pained, and he eyed them with a mixture of mutual distaste (in Russia's case) and determination. Russia froze in his place, his own smile quickly turning sour and that familiar, rolling aura waving off him as he regarded France with closed eyes. It didn't take long for France's cologne to creep into the air around them, and Kaliningrad caught the flare of her husband's nostrils.

    “Da?” he asked, voice sounding far too sweet for Kaliningrad's comfort.

    “Good evening, Russia. I see the two lovebirds are enjoying themselves, non?” France said, and gave a strange laugh. “Dancing to the sweet music as lovers, twirling gracefully beneath the bright moon.” He inhaled and let it out in a deep sigh. “Ah, la nuit est magnifique!”

    “We were wonderful until you showed up. Please be leaving us soon,” Russia replied icily, still smiling.

    “How cold!” France cried dramatically, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead. “I only came to ask for the lovely Hannah's hand for a dance!”

    “Nyet. You will not touch my lapooshka.”

    Any trace of a smile was completely gone from Russia's face. He was glowering intensely at France, his eyes cold and murderous.

    “W-why ever not, monsieur?” France asked, his smile faltering.

    “I do not know what you will be trying to do to her. I will not allow it.”

    Kaliningrad put a hand on Russia's arm and turned to France. “I would love to dance, Francis!”

    The Frenchman gave her such a relieved look she was taken aback. Russia did not look pleased in the least with her decision and tried to argue against it, but she reassured him that it would only be for one dance and that he could stand next to Norway and watch to make sure that France didn't try anything. She didn't believe France would dare, but it pleased her husband all the same.

    Still looking thoroughly vexed, Russia relinquished his grip on her and left the floor. He stomped up the stairs and towards the balcony and bar, and Kaliningrad laughed nervously, knowing he was probably going to get a glass of vodka. Or a whole bottle. France always seemed to have that effect on him.

    “Ah, merci, Hannah!” France cried, taking her hand in his and placing his other other on her back, however, much higher than Russia had, once her husband disappeared on the balcony. “You saved me!”

    Kaliningrad gave him a confused look. “How?”

    “Norway wanted to talk to Russia, and he asked to me intervene with your dancing so that he could,” France replied, sighing dramatically. “I thought he was going to kill me when I asked!” He shivered and gripped her hand more firmly. “You are an angel, mon chérie. You are the only person who can keep that brute under control.”