Good Morning, Sunshine

A/N: I've had this one in my head for a while, sans Hetalia. That is why everyone's human. I have never travelled that much, so if you have fun stories about your European trips or homes, please share! The best stories are the ones we write together!

WARNING: Some adult content.

Elizaveta Hédarváry liked New York.

She didn't like it because it was an overly pleasant place to be. Nor did she like it because the people were so charming. She didn't like it for the food, or the culture, or the fashion. She didn't like it for the smell.

Elizaveta liked New York because liking New York was a smart career move.

Elizaveta, or Liz to the sort of people who insist on calling people "Liz," was a playwright. Not a particularly good one, not even a "not terrible" one. Her last failure was underscored by her star and flatmate, Alfred, going completely off script and forcing her decent English lines into some sort of interpretive dance. She had been humiliated. But even though Alfred had ruined her scathing review on the EU and even though only six or so people had been in the audience in the room above the bar on 6th, New York is the sort of place that loves that sort of show, and both she and Alfred were called in to write and act for a place that paid real American dollars for work. Not enough to quit their respective day jobs and keep their apartment, but it was enough to affirm to Elizaveta that leaving Budapest wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done.

Tiredly, Elizaveta climbed out of the taxi. She trudged into the crowded Chinese restaurant and sighed.

"Liz!" called out a Korean accent.

Elizaveta forced a smile as Im Yong Soo ran at her and hugged her from behind. She peeled his fingers from her breasts and elbowed him playfully in the stomach.

"Yong Soo, if you keep grabbing customers' breasts like that, Mr Wang is going to fire you again."

The Korean laughed. "I hope so! I haven't been fired in like a week! It's weird!"

"That is weird," Elizaveta grinned, tightening her long brown ponytail. "If he's not feeling well, I can make him some kohlrabi."

Yong Soo made a face. "And give him a heart attack? You know how defensive he is about Korean food."

"Chinese food."

"Yeah, but it originated in Korea!"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes and tugged Yong Soo's nose. "I'm going up to change out of this stupid uniform."

"Ooh, let me come!" Yong Soo teased.

Elizaveta ignored him and dragged her feet up the stairs to the tiny apartment above the restaurant she shared with Alfred. She nearly fell asleep against the door trying to turn the key and stumbled in.

"LIZ!" Alfred shouted, glomping her against the door.

"Oof!" she replied.

"Liz, I'm so glad you're here! I can't remember what I'm supposed to wear tonight! Is tonight Pizza Guy or Pool Boy?"

Elizaveta pulled herself free of Alfred and headed to her bedroom. "Tonight's Preacher's Son," she called over her shoulder. "Pizza Guy isn't until Thursday."

"Shit!"

Elizaveta sighed as she peeled off her coffee shop shirt and threw it into the growing pile of dirty laundry. She didn't know why she expected Alfred to remember who he was supposed to play on any given night. The kid was sweet and cute, but dumber than a box of rocks. Probably the reason he'd run away from Kansas to pursue an acting career. Well, that and his parents were powerfully homophobic.

Alfred barged into Elizaveta's room without knocking just as she finished buttoning up her blouse.

"I don't remember any of the Preacher's Son lines!" he cried, panicked.

Elizaveta smiled and straightened Alfred's glasses on his nose. She had to stand on her toes to reach. "You're a soft core porn star," she said, fixing his hair. "Most of your lines are 'unh' and 'yeah.'"

The man blushed. He had a peculiar view on acting in porn, as if it was something to be ashamed of. Elizaveta didn't know why he was so fussy if she could nut up and waste her love of writing on grunts and moans. Just like she reminded Alfred after every shoot over a shared fifth of cheap vodka- "We love our crafts too much to turn back. One day, after you've won your third Emmy and I've got my Oscar, we'll meet up again and laugh about what we did to get here."

Elizaveta softened. "I'll run through them with you on the ride over, alright?"

Alfred broke into a smile and hugged her. "You're the best, Liz! I'm so glad I'm roomies with the top Hungarian soft core gay porn writer in New York!"

"And I'm so glad I'm roommates with someone who makes me feel useful. Grab your shit, we're gonna be late."

Alfred laughed and ran out to grab his costume. Elizaveta smiled and slung her purse over her shoulder.

…

"You're a sinner, John. And there's only one way to save your soul."

"How, Father? How?"

"Get on your knees, John, and pray. Close your eyes and pray. It's the only way to please the Lord."

Bom chika bow wow, Elizaveta thought as Alfred and the new actor did their jobs. She blushed and tried not to watch and make Alfred feel uncomfortable again, but butts.

Kiku Honda, the director, spotted her fighting herself and waved her over. She turned scarlet and dragged herself to the director's chair.

"Elizaveta," he murmured in his slight Japanese accent. "I rather like this one. The juxtaposition of religious artifacts and sodomy makes for a compelling metaphor. Alfred, FASTER! We don't have all night!"

Elizaveta tore her eyes away from the monitors in front of Kiku. "Th-thank you, Mr Honda," she said. "I thought that using the prayer candlewax was uniquely taboo."

"I've been in this business a lot longer than you," Kiku smiled, "and I've never seen that. Well done."

Elizaveta blushed and watched the screens with her director. He pointed at one.

"Something's missing in this shot," he murmured.

Elizaveta studied it. Alfred was very good at his job, as was the new actor. They managed to touch each other without actually touching each other in the peculiar way soft core porn actors had. Watching them dry hump the air above each other seemed silly now, but Kiku would go back and edit them the film expertly. No, there was nothing missing in the shot.

But suddenly, violently, Elizaveta felt a gaping, crippling void in herself, the sort of falling sensation she got when she climbed the stairs in the dark and she thought there was one more stair than there was. She clutched her stomach as she saw spots in the corner of her vision. She collapsed into the chair beside Kiku and forgot how to breathe as her eyes burned with tears.

"Connection," she whispered.

Kiku looked up and smiled. "What would I do without you? ALFRED! JOHN! MORE EYE CONTACT!"

Elizaveta felt queasy and she covered her face. What was she doing here? New York was loud and smelly and gave her a migraine. The six years she'd been here since she'd come to study theatre hadn't made New York any more her home than Budapest had been after her parents died. She had friends and coworkers and a roommate, but she didn't understand them and they couldn't understand her. She had no one here. She was all alone in a big city, stuck writing throwaway dialogue for a two-bit porn company so she could buy food and pay for her room. The world was moving around her, and she wasn't part of it.

…

Alfred handed Elizaveta the bottle of vodka, as per their nightly ritual. Jon Stewart cracked a joke on the TV and she swigged down the fiery water to drown out the laughter.

"I'm never going to get out of porn, am I?" Alfred moaned. This was also part of their nightly ritual: they would sit on their ratty couch and each bitch about their lives, their jobs, the news, and the other would make them feel better until they were both laughing too hard to breathe. It was a nice ritual.

But Elizaveta couldn't bring herself to do it. "I don't know," she murmured. She took another gulp of vodka and sank deeper into the couch, her legs across Alfred's lap.

Alfred was taken aback. "What?"

Elizaveta sighed and handed him the bottle. "What are we doing, Alfred? Why are we here?"

Alfred took a swig and passed the bottle back. "We're following our dreams. I'm here so I can be a star and get rich doing what I love. You're here because you've always wanted to write something meaningful that would change someone's life."

"Vodka makes you sentimental," Elizaveta said moodily, taking a gulp.

"And it usually makes you silly," Alfred said. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Elizaveta took a resentful swig of vodka and watched the McDonald's commercial flicker across their crappy TV. She saw it without seeing it, happy people cutting to more happy people cutting to more happy people. McDonald's customers must have it all figured out.

"Liz."

Elizaveta looked up. "Yeah."

"Tell me what's going on."

Elizaveta swung her legs off Alfred's lap and staggered to her feet. "Nothing. M'fine. Just tired." She handed the rest of the vodka to Alfred and stumbled to her room and into her bed.

And then, without fully knowing why, she sobbed into her pillow until she fell asleep.

…

The next morning, Elizaveta woke up late. On an ordinary day, this would throw her into a panic attack. She would scramble around her room to find her uniform, accidentally brush her teeth with Neosporin, yell at Alfred and chase down a taxi before showing up two minutes late to the disapproving glare of her teenage manager at Starbucks. It would ruin her day.

But this didn't feel like an ordinary day. She'd had four hours of sleep and she had a killer hangover, but she moved serenely to get ready for her day. She even lingered in the shower to shave her legs and let the cool water wash away the summer sweat. Elizaveta packed her clothes into her large saddlebag, the one she rarely used. Something told her that she was putting too much stuff in her bag for a day at work, but she ignored the feeling and packed in her conditioner.

Alfred was eating breakfast in the kitchen.

"Liz?" he said, confused. "You'd better hurry, you're gonna be mega late!"

Elizaveta took a sip of coffee from his mug. "What time's your brother getting in tonight?"

"Um… his plane lands at six. Hey, thanks for letting him stay. I promise he'll be out just as soon as he finds a place of his own."

"Oh, he needn't rush," Elizaveta smiled, kissing Alfred on the forehead. "It'll be nice having a nurse around."

Alfred gave her a cautious smile. "Liz? Are you feeling alright? Maybe Mattie should take a look at you when he gets in."

"Maybe," Elizaveta said. She grabbed an apple from the fridge. "Have a great day, Alfred. And don't wait up too late for me, okay?"

"Why, do you have plans or something?"

Elizaveta chuckled and stepped out. "Nope."

The door closed behind her.

…

Elizaveta fully intended to go to work. Honest, she did. But when the taxi finally pulled up to her and she finally climbed into the smelly car and the chain smoking driver finally said, "Where to, lady?" her lips accidentally slipped.

"JFK, please," she said. "And take your time."

The driver eyed her in the mirror as he pulled off the curb. "JFK Airport? You going somewhere?"

Elizaveta smiled calmly. "I think I am."

…

"Thanks, Rob!" Elizaveta smiled, tapping the roof of the car. The driver gave her a thumbs-up and pulled away.

Elizaveta felt a growing sense of excitement in her stomach as she turned to face the airport. This was the gateway to so many new lives! Thousands of people came through here every day, walked through these very doors, to find themselves miles and untold miles away from their jobs and families and lives! This was the gate to a new existence, to a deeper meaning, to a connection to the world!

"Excuse me, Miss."

"Hurry up, ma'am."

"Hey! Move your ass, lady!"

"Sorry!" Elizaveta jumped back to let the sudden crowd behind her through the doors. She followed them in.

The airport was still loud, but it had a sort of chaotic orderliness to it that Elizaveta immediately hated. The giant electronic sign flickered letters and times she only barely recognized as destinations. Curiously, she regarded the big BUD and wondered how many people on that plane were going home.

And then she was 18 again, scared of how big the world was and holding herself on an airport bench, wishing her mother was there to brush back her thick hair and tell her she could do it. Elizaveta gasped and fell onto the bench, tears springing in her eyes.

She wanted someone to tell her she could do it if she wanted to. She wanted someone to tell her that she was strong enough and brave enough to take care of herself, but that she didn't have to. She wanted someone to be afraid with her for just a moment, and then tell her a joke.

Who was she kidding? She was living in New York City now. She had a life that she'd made herself. She had people to drink and laugh with. She had a job. Why was she here, in this hot, loud, frightening airport?

Elizaveta cradled her face in her hands. And tried not to cry.

"He, dude," a German accent said. "You okay?"

Elizaveta's eye twitched. "I'm not a dude."

She looked up to find a sniggering, white figure in a black concert tee shirt. She blinked a few times to order the shapes in her head- he was so shockingly white, she just needed a second.

The albino German waved his hand nonchalantly. "Relax, bitch, I call everyone 'dude.'"

"What did you call me?" Elizaveta snapped.

"I call everyone 'bitch,' too," the man said, taking the seat beside her. "I'll let you know when I say something you should be offended by."

"Can I help you?" Elizaveta said, annoyed. She didn't know how to deal with this.

The German laughed. "No, I don't think you can. Kesesese!"

Even his laugh was annoying. Elizaveta gestured for him to leave. "So have a nice day, sir."

The German made a face. "Don't call me 'sir.'"

"Then don't call me 'bitch!'"

The man's red eyes sparkled in glee. "Fair enough. What can I call you?"

"Don't call me at all."

The man cackled. "Good one, dude! But if you don't tell me your name, I'll have to tell everyone I met an angry Hungarian woman named Kevin crying in the airport."

Elizaveta reddened. "I wasn't… I'm not… I didn't… Kevin?!"

"KESESESE! Are you always this easily flustered? Awesome!"

"Stop laughing at me!"

The German stopped laughing and grinned. "Relax, no one's laughing at you. You can call me Gilbert if I can call you by your name."

Elizaveta strangled her bag strap. "I'm Elizaveta."

"Where you headed, Lizzy?" Gilbert grinned.

Elizaveta's eye twitched. Just then, her phone vibrated again. She looked down to see Starbucks calling her. She turned her phone off and sighed.

"I… I don't know."

Gilbert looked surprised. "But… you're in an airport."

"Yeah, I know that, douchebucket. If you must know, I didn't actually plan this."

The pale German man broke into a dazzling grin. "Really? Me either! How'd you end up here?"

Elizaveta eyed the stranger. She couldn't tell Alfred because she cared what he thought about her. Same with Yong Soo and Kiku and everyone she knew in New York. She had to see them every day, and she didn't want them to judge her.

But this pale German man with blood-colored eyes had come out of nowhere, called her dude, bitch and Kevin, sat next to her and he'd asked. He was so rude about it that Elizaveta almost wanted to tell him, just so he'd have to sit there and listen. And then she could forget him, and he could forget her, and both of them could get on with their separate lives in New York.

Elizaveta sighed. "I just… I don't fit."

Gilbert offered her a stick of gum and waved her on encouragingly.

Elizaveta took it and chewed thoughtfully. "I have the life I always dreamed about back in Hungary. I'm a small time film writer, and I'm only going to get better. I'm not starving or homeless. I have friends and a job and I can afford as much beer as I want. But it feels… wrong."

Gilbert snapped his gum. "Wrong how?"

"I don't know," Elizaveta sighed. "Wrong, like, I'm not supposed to be doing this. I'm supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else with someone else. I feel like a cog that just doesn't fit in a clock, and no matter how hard I try to make it feel right, it's just wrong."

"Like the rest of the world is moving around you," Gilbert said quietly. "And even though you want to be part of it, you can't?"

"Right," Elizaveta nodded. "I just want to be happy."

"I know just how you feel."

Elizaveta sighed and stretched her arms. "Well. I guess that's just something we need to live with, huh?"

Gilbert smirked slowly. "Live with? But my dear Hungarian lady, there's a very simple cure!"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Before I tell you, you need a few drinks in that hung over writer-brain of yours! To the bar!"

Elizaveta stood up. "It's 8:30 in the morning, Gilbert."

"Kesesese!" Gilbert cackled, pointing to the giant electronic sign. "It's five o'clock somewhere!"

This… is going to take a while. And then longer. This one is going to take me forever. You interested in sticking around? Let me know, and share your travel stories and fun stuff!