This is based on a roleplay with Shatterdoll. There aren't a lot of Space Race fics out there and it is a crying shame. Obviously, the stuff with McDonalds is not quite historically accurate. They totally were not internationalized by then, I'm sure. Anyway, this is fairly fluffy and just for fun. Please leave a review and tell us what you think!
Okay, I kind of redid some of the chapter. Nothing important, really, just... stuff.
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Meetings had not been the same since after the war. The change in leadership in several countries had been a big turn in a different direction, but what America noticed the most was just how large Russia had become. There had always been a bit of tension between the two and a fair amount of rightful distrust, but it seemed to have been brought into light even more over the recent months. It had developed into a war of sorts, but it was far more psychological than it was physical. It mostly consisted of glaring at each other from across rooms and making snide remarks about each other's weight. Today, however, was different. The tension had risen to the point that one of them was going to snap.
America glared across the table at the Russian who was smiling at him in a way that made the hairs stand on his back. The staring contest had been going on for the past ten minutes and, though his eyes were starting to water, he would not blink. The other members of the meeting were starting to catch on to what was going on and pay more attention to them than the current speaker. America gripped at the desk. Damn Commie, he should have been distrustful of him from the get-go. He was sure he was planning to get him just as soon as his back was turned.
The Communist in question continued to smile at America in the same sickeningly sweet way he always had, musing over just amusing he was. Russia was not certain, but it seemed like he wanted to play a game. How fun! Russia loved games and no one ever wanted to play with him. America seemed tense, as if he was expecting an attack any second. Russia would never be so stupid to harm him during a meeting, though he wasn't completely unjustified in his concern. He watched the American grow more and more tense, counting down the seconds to when he would finally explode.
"Dammit, what's your problem?! Are you trying to pick a fight?" America shot out of his chair as he yelled at the Russian, feeling that his eyes were about to shrivel up. The room went deadly silent as all eyes turned to see what would happen. Russia giggled softly and tilted his head up to look at him.
"I have no problems, nor am I trying to pick a fight. Would you like one? It might be fun... if you think you can handle it." He giggled again. The attention shifted back to America, everyone waiting to see his response.
"Ha!" He grinned at him, half-amused and half-pissed. "Please, we already know I'd win. I have a better idea. A race." So far improvising was working well. There was no way he could beat him in a head-on fight due to the fact that Russia was stronger than him in sheer size and in the numbers of his people. He paused, quickly scrambling for a place and settling on the first thing that came to mind without stopping to think about how stupid that sounded. "A race to the moon."
Russia looked up for a moment, eyebrows raising in childlike delight and he began to laugh. The moon. How very... American. His laughter under control, Ivan studied America's young face for a moment. Perhaps the fool had just said the first thing to come to his mind. In fact he knew America had said the first thing that came to his mind, but he decided to take it quite seriously. Standing, Russia extended his hand.
"Very well, I accept your challenge. First one to the moon wins. I am quite looking forward to it." After getting over the initial moment of shock that Russia had actually accepted, America looked him in the eyes and took his hand, shaking it firmly before letting go.
"May the best man win." No one dared to say anything. This shit storm had been growing for the past few years. Canada attempted to talk his brother out of it, but was dutifully ignored. The awe-inspiring United States of America, land of the free and home of the brave, had challenged the wimpy Russian Federation, land of the fail and home of the lame, to a race. And he would be damned if he did not win. After a brief and painfully awkward silence, the meeting continued as if nothing had happened. The American drew little spaceships on his notes while the meeting was wrapped up. Truth be told, things had been a little boring lately. This would certainly liven things up, and Russia's crushed expression would be priceless.
Russia watched America throughout the meeting, noting his general obliviousness and doodles. Perhaps he did not realize that when Russia played games, he played to win. Oh well, he would certainly learn soon enough. Russia had to contain another giggle at the thought. As the meeting came to a close, he stood and waited until the room began to clear, keeping his smile trained on the shorter man. Finally he spoke as the ever oblivious America finally looked up, his voice soft and perhaps not as playful as usual.
"I will win you know." A scowl crossed America's face before lightening into a look of mild annoyance.
"Hmph. I wouldn't be too sure of that." He gathered up his drawings and stuffed them in his briefcase. "Though I have to admit, this wouldn't be near as interesting if it was with anyone else." Obviously because Russia was a sick bastard who probably had no sense of fair play. America would have to work his ass off to win, and he would not have it any other way. This whole dispute could be solved and he would not have to put up with any more creepy smiles. He started walking but kept an eye on him, suspicious. The moment one let their guard down around a Commie was the moment they got shanked, and he was not about to let that happen.
Russia's face lit up when he heard the words. He was glad to hear America say such a thing and silently agreed. There was no one else who would play this game nearly as well, no one he would want to play it with as much. Russia noticed the blond watching him and couldn't help but wink. He was laughably paranoid. It was rather cute really. He began to follow him, perhaps keeping up with him longer than was really necessary. It was just so amusing the way he threw increasingly irritated and paranoid looks behind him, his steps quickening.
"Dont you have anything better to do than follow me?" He was hungry, irritable, and needed to formulate his plans. Clearly the best place to do this was McDonalds, but he had not seen one on the way in. In fact, he had not seen one since arriving in Germany for the meeting, which was extremely strange considering his main goal was internationalizing it. Russia only laughed.
"Not particularly, comrade. I suppose I could begin making plans to reach the moon... Ah, but then it would be too easy to win if you didn't get a head start, don't you think?" He smiled in mocking amusement. America's cheeks reddened a little in anger and he spluttered, unable to think of a single witty remark.
"Jerk... Whatever, do what you want." He started walking again, though now at more of a trot, and looked for a McDonalds, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. Russia continued to follow him, at first to irritate him, then out of curiosity. He could not fathom what he was wandering out looking for. The American seemed increasingly irritated as well. As entertaining as it was to see the other bumble his way around another country, Russia was beginning to get bored. Perhaps he should let the other get himself lost and see if he found his way back by the next meeting. However, his thoughts were cut short when the other abruptly stopped and turned to face him.
"You, Commie! You've been here before, right, where's a good place to eat?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, certain Russia would probably just suggest a pig trough or something equally demeaning. However, Russia looked a bit taken off guard by the question. The man who had just challenged him was asking him for a place to eat. He could not help but grin at the prospect. What a naive thing to do, and yet the younger man had always seemed led by his stomach. He thought about it, wondering if he should tell him a truly atrocious place, but thought of something better.
"Da, I have been here. I can take you somewhere. It has been a while since I've had lunch with someone. And do remember before you decline that your stomach is on the line." Ooh it rhymed, how fun! Russia was certain he would enjoy this greatly, though he could not say the same for America, who had opened his mouth to protest before closing it and nodding dumbly. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, telling him he was a fool. Food should not be that important to him. And yet, it was.
"... Alright, but I've got my eye on you! Don't try to poison my food, creep." At that point, it didn't matter if it was poisoned or not, he would eat it. "So... Lead the way, I guess."
As awkward as it was for America, Russia did not seem phased. In fact, he was absolutely brimming with amusement. The idiot was putting his life in his hands for a meal.
"Poison? Don't be so melodramatic. I would never win a game by cheating." Well, not cheating so blatantly anyway. "Come along then, I know a place nearby. Germany took me to a restaurant like it once, when we were allies. Of course it's a different one. This whole city seems so different from back then. But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, so safe across the ocean. Shall we hold hands so as not to get separated?" He smirked at the thought, quite pleased with himself, but was glared at in response.
"I'll pass, thanks. And quite honestly, I get enough of you guys at meetings. I can't imagine being on the same continent." He walked with him, following him against his better judgement. Who knew, maybe he would actually take him to a restaurant instead of disembowling him. It was a chance he was willing to take. Russia shrugged at his refusal with a small smile and began leading down a crowded street, and away from the building.
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And that's that. I find it insanely hard to switch from roleplay format to a fic, but that is because I am an extremely lazy individual. Since it is all written up, though, it won't be too hard.
Update: I fixed some of the crap I should have caught from the first time around. No switching names anymore... which is so painful for me because it's so convenient. It sounds so repetitive otherwise... I now understand why the great Russian writers used a million nicknames for their characters. It wasn't to add depth or anything. It was laziness.
