"How the fuck did you get in my house, Commie Bastard?"
Russia simply smiled. This was his favorite game.
America's eyes strayed to the gun sitting on the coffee table, as though calculating whether he could get to it before Russia pulled a weapon of his own. "Answer me."
"Your house is easy to break into," Russia shrugged nonchalantly. "Like your government's security."
Twitch.
Aha, struck a chord there, did he? Perhaps he could find a few more...His rival's buttons were far too easy to push. "You think I don't about the door in your basement? Or your dusty old storage room? The interrogations?" His smile became more of a smirk. "I know everything, Fredka."
Another twitch. America's eyes narrowed. "Leave. I don't want to see your big nose ever again."
"And I do not want to see your greasy capitalist face," Russia sighed, feigning regret. "But we can't all have what we want in this world. Something you have yet to learn, it seems, with all of your greed."
The western superpower growled lowly. Russia gleefully carried on, eager to see what would happen when he widened all the little cracks in his opponent's psyche. "Greedy, foolish, arrogant…it's no wonder that you've become so unpopular. And all of your folly will be for naught." He bent down patronizingly, meeting the American's darkened blue eyes. "Because after all is said and done, you will fall from grace. You will come to understand my superiority, and model yourself after me. Then you will be just. Like. Me."
"No…Go away." America's head did an odd sort of twisting motion-rather like a snake. He stood up from the couch, suddenly averting his gaze. "Leave me alone."
Russia eyebrows climbed up his forehead, curious. He'd never received a reaction like this, before. "Look at me, Amerika."
"No."
The pale Nation felt his nerves tingle with excitement. This was different. America's voice was laden with something else. Something dark and mad and absolutely intoxicating to hear because it meant danger.
Russia threw caution to the wind by taking America's jaw in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet again. "I said, look at me."
Something flashed across the western Nation's irises-so quickly that Russia almost thought he'd imagined it. Then there was pain, and Russia's head hit the hard floorboards.
"Don't touch me."
Strange, how America had him at his mercy, and yet hesitated to finish the job. He had ample excuse to, having been assaulted first. And he'd never held back, before.
His voice changed again, sounding barely restrained. "Leave."
Ah. Pity, that. Whatever that moment was, it was gone. Along with Russia's desire to remain. He climbed to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "This was an interesting talk. I'll be back, Fredka."
'I want to see this side of you again, someday soon.
The side that is just like me.'
NO, I DO NOT THINK RUSSIA'S JUST A PSYCHOTIC ASSHOLE. He's actually one of my favorite characters, and I enjoy his giant cuddly sunflower loving side as much as anyone else. I do, however, think he likes to play mind games. Especially during the Cold War.
…And perhaps he doesn't have a very good opinion of himself that isn't entirely merited. But that's a story for another day. ;)
Think of this as a prequel for the new and improved Bad Medicine. The first chapter of which I'm posting within the next day or two.