Medicine = Magic [RoChu Fanfiction]

Chapter Twenty Two

A/N This is *the cruddiest* chapter I've ever written and, from all of your perspectives it's nearly two months late. For me this is one week less late. The thing is I forgot to mention that I was going to be changing my schedule to every other week to manage school work. Also more importantly I write this on a Google Document that was previously accessible from my school chromebook (because I don't have other computers except the family one) but my school blocked all usage of other accounts so I can't really write in anymore.

...jokes on them though I transferred the google document to my school account. Now they can't escape from my RoChu angst and RusAme hentai bait! Obviously that's a joke but it is on my school account now.

Another thing, I rewrote some of my plan because I added some ✨things✨ to the AU. A/N over.

Cuba put down the flower he had been rolling over between his fingers, looking up at Canada and squinting at his face.

A few months had passed since Canada had been in Russia and there was still that curious gleam in his eyes. Cuba got along with Russia very well, even if the man who represented the country was more than a little mentaly off. He certainly knew how Canada felt about the newer editions to the city, it was both impressive and inspiring.

Canada seemed to notice Cuba staring for the first time and smiled awkwardly, "you know, it's okay that you punched me, I know that I look rather like my brother..."

Cuba bit his lip, he had nearly forgotten about that. He had come to Canada's house, it was still quite cold to him even though it was summer in the northern nation. Even though he had shown up to Canada's house he had immediately punched the blond out of reflex, thinking of course that he was his younger and way more annoying brother America.

Canada laughed, the awkwardness in his voice more intense, "Seriously, it's fine," his voice was quiet but audible over the sound of the heater running in a back room. (He had turned it on so that Cuba wouldn't, in his words, 'freeze to death'.)

It was true, Cuba hated the cold (it wasn't like it didn't get cold in his own country, he just hated the low temperatures). Warmth meant more travelers and more money and more money meant he could become more powerful and more independent. It was what all of them wanted really (or at least what he hoped everyone wanted because he didn't want to be going about becoming powerful the wrong way.)

Power was a touchy subject in their friendship.

It didn't matter how overwhelming and overbearing America was because if you dug just the tiniest bit deeper Canada was right there, a stunning 'zero wars lost' at his right and a right to use weapons on his left. Cuba wasn't... forgotten. He wasn't weak, that was for certain (in fact he had relatively won in his last little spat with the American) but he was still clearly, uncomfortably, far behind.

Thoughts strayed as he noticed that Canada was fidgeting again, he reached forward and brushed a stray hair out of his friend's pale face. Canada looked up, a small and inquisitive smile teasing his lips. At the questioning expression Cuba laughed softly, distantly sadly even, "it was in your face, did I disrupt you?"

Canada shook his head the quiet smile on his face now a much clearer (yet still soft) expression, "I was spacing out, I don't mind if you move annoying strips of hair out of my face Carlos,"

He wasn't taken about by the use of his name, in fact it was appreciated. Instead he closed his eyes, rubbing the stray curls of black hair that stuck out from the back of his neck, "except that curl, right?"

It was Mathew's turn to laugh, now nearly crossing his eyes to glance up at his hair curl. If he had been trying to hide his amusement the strand would have betrayed him as it uncurled very slightly into a looser curl, a sure sign of comfort. Instead he smiled, looking forward again with that odd and hopeful glint still gleaming in his eyes, "Except the curl,"