Hetalia Today.

The Fabulous Netherlands.

"...da. Goodbye," Ivan hung up and lowered the phone.

Shit, his boss was scary. He seemed to take it personally and directly to Ivan that transport for his up coming trip to the Netherlands wasn't prepared yet. But why was it his fault?

It wasn't, that's what. Ivan wasn't responsible for that trivial crap! So as far as he was concerned, his boss could walk to-

The sound of tape being strung across his door with a tearing noise drowned out his treacherous thoughts.

"Hm?" His violet eyes flicked up, head in hand. The sounds continued as a shillouhette outside layered the tape up. Then there was a satisfied grunt and the perpetrator walked away down the hall.

"Who.."

Standing, Ivan strode over. And opened the door to a cloud of pipe smoke.

Netherlands.

Ivan fanned it away and it cleared to reveal the yellow tape stuck to him as he strode out. Narrowing his eyes, he held it up to his face. It was in English-

'NO GAY PROPAGANDA BEYOND THIS LINE'

...

What?

'Do not frighten President Putin. Keep this area human rights free'

...

...what?

Ivan slowly began to panic internally, though he kept smiling and staring at the tape without really reading it again. Sure, human rights, and all that, he knew it was a right to humanity to marry who you wanted, but-

These were more treacherous thoughts. Thoughts he could never dream to voice. But here was the tape, like an announcement of those very thoughts rather than a challenge to his boss.

Either way his boss would flay him alive for this.

He was going to have to confront the country. Tackle the problem head on. With possibly a little help from Mr. Pipe.

"Netherlands, it's Russia!"

There was no reply.

"I'm coming in!"

Ivan swung the door of Netherland's office open, and walked right into a headache.

The office was a vomit of rainbows: flags pinned over all of the wall space; ribbons hanging from the ceiling; flags standing proud across the desk his feet were swung onto; and the only attire of the country was the gay pride flag slapped onto his chest.

Ivan froze.

Tim looked up through a cloud of smoke wafting from his pipe from a Donald Duck comic, yellow tape seemingly innocent by his feet, and said, "goede morgen, Rusland."

"..dobroye utro, Niderlandy.."

"As you can see, we are totally prepared for the visit from your boss."

"...da."

"All council buildings have been given the correct dress over."

"...da."

Tim tapped the pipe on the side of his leg and asked expressionlessly, "gaat het, Rus?"

Ivan's aura was so thick it was manifest. It dipped in a purple wave as he nodded with a smile and replied, "da."

With a shower of glitter the door shut and Tim smoked and listened to the dragging footsteps wander down the corridor, and then the sound of a door creaking shut.

Ivan called in sick the next day.

Tim just took the news in a rainbow suit, nodding solemnly.

Yao was also off on the same day, without notice, much to the surprise of his family.

(Took place before the referendum.)