Hetalia Twist

Chapter 7: The 8 hour Plane Flight Part 2

"Check one two, runway 9, clear for liftoff?" Alfred adjusted his headpiece. "Rodger that, you are a okay, have a safe flight U.S 2, station out." Ivan smiled, "Da, copy that."

There was static as the plane began picking up speed, skidding on the runway several times before finally climbing upward. Alfred looked at the Russian. "You forgot something." He frowned, flicking a switch. There was a small ding. "Good morning everyone, dis is your copilot speaking, you are now free to roam about the cabin, da?" Alfred nodded before activating autopilot.

"Dude, I'm starved, let's go grab a sandwich." Communist bastard. Ivan smiled. "I'm going to check out the plane." Stupid American. "Okay."

Ivan fluidly moved into the passenger cabin. He scanned the seats. Only 10 people were here. "Where'd everyone go?" Roderich looked up from his book along with Elizabeta. "The bar. Two rooms back." "A bar?"

Ivan opened the next door. A large, but empty room was laid before him. This is new. Ivan opened the next set of doors. People all around were bumping into each other, a glass of liquor in most of their hands. The wiser of the group decided to sit down.

He approached the bar stand. "водка." The female bartender nodded and poured a glass. He sipped it. "Cпасибо. I can hold my liquor well, keep it coming." She smiled before pouring a glass for a sober Finland. Kolkolkol.

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"This is my kind of place." Gilbert had a beer in his hand. "The beer isn't as fresh, but a bar on a plane, it's a gold mine." Matthew sat next to him in a bar stool chair holding his polar bear in his hands. "Yeah, I guess." Gilbert sat down and stared at the depressed Canadian. Placing hand on his shoulder, he whispered something in his ear, he already reeked of alcohol. "You need a drink. Smoke some weed. Get laid. You know, something to make you smile." 

Matthew pushed the German away from his face. "You need to ease up on the beer, you're barely sober and we haven't even been in the air for an hour yet."

Gilbert scoffed. "That's why the bar's there!" Matthew looked down at the polar bear. "What should I do Mr.Kumojiro, the pot or the liquor?" The bear blinked. "Who are you?" Gilbert sprayed his beer everywhere, everywhere being anyone standing in front of him and all over Matthew's arm. He looked at the bear. "I'm Canada! Why can't you remember?" "Di- Did that bear just speak."

The Canadian sighed and got off the stool. "I don't have time for this." Gilbert sat there and looked at his empty cup, Gilbird going berserk and flying circles around his master's head. "Maybe... I should ease up on the bear- er, beer."

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"Hey, Arthur ease up on zee alcohol." Francis stared at the Brit, who was obviously out of it. "What you talking about? I'm hic completely fine! Now stop sticking your hand in my face every bloody 5 minutes, I can't see anything when you do that." Francis twisted the glass of beer out of his hand, restraining him easily with the other. "You need to stop for a while." Arthur began flailing his arms and reaching for the glass. "Give me back my bitter you bloody git or I'll take you out."

Nowhere he folded his arms on the bar, put his head down, and began to cry. "Why does America hate me?! I feel so unloved." It took all of Francis will power to not laugh. Or cry. Or hug him. Or knock him out, sling him over his shoulder, and put him in a trash bin. Maybe a little bit of everything.

Instead he placed a hand on his back. "Ah, life is tough, non?" Arthur stopped crying and looked at the Frenchie. "Damn hic right it is. Why would that idiot leave me?" Francis sighed. Thank God I didn't win him. Arthur makes it seem more like a burden. "Because he's an ass."