Disclaimer: This story may contain some OOC, since I don't have that much experience with writing about Russia's complex personality and could possibly even mess up on America's. Also, I might be terrible at Russian accents. This whole 'someone so is afraid of thunder' theme also may seem a bit cliche. Lastly, while I was in the middle of writing this story, I happened to find another story that seemed to be quite similar to this one at first glance. Then when I read through it, I notice that there were actually quite a bit of differences, but I'm not sure if you guys as a reader can see this the same way I do. Even though I was reassured some that this story isn't just a complete copy of another one I didn't even know existed before, there's still a part of me that's telling me that someone may think I'm lying, and will lose all respect for me as an author. I am going to try and defend myself right now by just telling you guys to read the hetalia fanfiction 'Wolves and Thunder' and this one before making any claims. If this doesn't convince you, then go ahead and call me out for posting this. Of course, this may not seem like such a big deal to some of you, and maybe I'm just being a paranoid fool, but I think it would be rather embarrassing to not address something like this before posting this story on the internet. Even if it doesn't make up for what you guys might accuse me of.
A/N: Wow, that was a pretty long disclaimer. So, I noticed that people seemed to enjoy my other RusAme story 'A Villain Hidden Within the Hero', and decided, 'why not make another one-shot about these two cuties?' Also, I've sort of been itching to just write one of these thunderstorm stories for almost a year now. Oh, and before I forget, Hetalia doesn't belong to me. :)
Russia never really did have a pleasant experience with thunderstorms. All they ever did in the present was remind him of the despair he had felt when he was only a child, trying to defend himself against the rest of the world. There was one time in particular that really seemed to traumatize him. It was during one summer night when he was trying to flee from a group of nations who decided to invade his country. Of course, he would've continued to defend himself, if he could, but since they had given him more wounds and bruises than he could ever want to count, he knew perfectly well that fighting would have been futile. Despite the fact that he was still experiencing some sharp pains here and there, as the opposing nations were still attacking his land, Russia continued to run, knowing full well that being captured was possibly the last thing any nation would want. Eventually, the pain became too much for him to handle, and he ended up collapsing onto the forest floor.
There he lay, curled up in one of the most vulnerable positions he's ever been in, trembling due to the fear of being found. Then, tears gathered up in his eyes when he noticed for the first time that dark clouds were covering up the night sky. It was almost as if the weather was mocking his emotions as he felt a few drops hit his face before rain started pouring from the sky, gradually becoming more intense as time passed by. Before he knew it, Russia was soaked. As if laying in the middle of dark forest in a great amount of pain while shivering from the frigid air of the storm wasn't enough for the poor Russian, a flash lightning lit up his surroundings, causing him to tense up. Then, he shut his eyes as tightly as he could and let out a whimper when a rumble of thunder rang throughout the forest.
As a young child, Russia was always terrified of thunderstorms, just as many kids were. Usually, he would be indoors during such an event, possibly even curled up on his bed and clutching onto something such as a blanket or a part of his scarf, since the warmth always made him feel so much better. Really, they weren't such a huge deal to him before he ended up in the middle of the woods, but since he had nothing to keep him warm, and he was perfectly aware of the fact that it was defiantly not safe to be outside during a thunderstorm (especially when he was under a bunch of trees), it had caused him to now feel frigid and isolated whenever there was a thunderstorm. They had possibly become one of the most triggering things to him.
Currently, Russia was doing some work at a desk in America's house. He was actually in an immensely jolly mood that day. It had been partially sunny outside the entire day, and the temperature never left the sixties range in fahrenheit, which was quite a rare occurrence during the summer where America lived. Of course, he did enjoy warm weather quite a bit, and sometimes would become consumed by envy when he thought about nations that lived near the equator, but at the same time, he was simply not used to seventy degrees weather, so he couldn't say that summer was always pleasant. As helpful as it had become for Russia to adapt to the acute conditions during a winter in his land, he still abhorred the cold, and wished that he could bask in something as scorching as a one-hundred degrees sunny day. On those typical seventy to eighty degrees days of summer when he was out in public, people would often give him weird looks for wearing a scarf, and he was completely aware of the reason why. Even though he knew that wearing the scarf was illogical, he still couldn't stand being without it, since it was just too precious to him.
Aside from that factor, he hardly even had that much work to complete in the first place, so of course, he was looking forward to spending some quality time with America that night. Perhaps if he wasn't so oblivious to the fact that there were dark clouds covering up the night sky, he wouldn't have felt so unusually optimistic.
Russia was only mere minutes away from finishing up his paperwork when suddenly, an azure flash made itself present for a few seconds, undeterred by the existence of the yellow light in that was already present in the room. At first, Russia just paused, then jumped when he heard a loud rumble follow only seconds afterwards. Despite the fact that he was starting to feel a bit uneasy, especially since he had just noticed the noisy pitter patter of rain on the window, Russia resumed to finishing up his work, this time writing at a much quicker pace.
By the time he was finished scribbling the last bit of Russian on his papers, there was another flash of lightening, and this time, the rumble almost sounded as if it had lurched closer to the poor nation, for it was much louder than before. Whimpering at the increase of volume, Russia moved his legs that were now becoming stiff from fear so that he could just curl up on the bed, hug a pillow, and wait the thunderstorm out. He knew that he was going to have to use something to stifle any sobs, or possibly even screams that would dare to leave his throat, since he didn't want America to find out his secret, and since the bed had such soft, comforting things that could do the job, it truly was a haven for him.
When Russia successfully managed to crawl into the bed, before his body became paralyzed with fear, he burrowed under the covers, so that he would be able to absorb some extra heat in case he started to have chills from all of the stress he might experience. Then, he grabbed a pillow and held it close to his chest. Soon enough, Russia found himself relaxing a bit, until another loud rumble broke his concentration, causing him to yelp before he could even bury his face into the pillow he was holding. Despite the fact that Russia was about to break down due to the perturbation he was feeling, he was still able to focus on praying to whatever higher power that might be out there to make sure that America didn't hear his yelp, and wouldn't suddenly barge into the room to find him a panicking mess.
Unfortunately, that higher power Russia begged to either just didn't exist, or had something against him, for America slammed the door open in a bout of excitement, ran into the room, and nearly shouted, "Hey Russia! Check out this thunderstorm!"
Despite the fact that fear was still clenching at his heart, Russia tried to force the tremor out of his voice, "Y-yes, I know. Now leave."
America frowned when he noticed that Russia was trying to hide his face in a pillow, and well, just disappear into the bed all together, "Hey, is something wrong?"
Russia never lifted his head from the pillow as he mumbled, "Nyet."
America ignored this response, and sat down on the bed next to Russia. Just when he started to gently rub the Russian's back, he noticed for the first time just how much he was trembling, "You're shaking Russia. Can you please tell me what's wrong?"
Russia didn't respond, in the fear of how his American companion might react if he admitted that he was scared. Sure, he loved America quite a bit, and could trust him with his life. Even when they were in the middle of one of those heated arguments they would sometimes have, but he had a feeling that America would be too apathetic towards him if he found out about his phobia, so he figured that it was better left a secret.
However, it didn't seem as if his secret was going to be kept hidden any longer, for another rumble of thunder caused Russia to whimper at quite a volume. This time, the thunder sounded as ear-splitting as an explosion, so it caused Russia to start sobbing uncontrollably, despite the fact that America was right next to him. At first, America had to take a few moments to interpret the situation before him. He must have been seeing things wrong, there was no way that Russia was actually frightened of a thunderstorm, right? The only nation he could think of that might have this reaction would be Italy, and Russia wasn't nearly as cowardly as Italy. Really, it should've been Russia who was scarring the thunderstorm away, just as one of those silly memes would've said so.
Then, America couldn't help but smirk, So Russia's afraid of thunderstorms? Now this is just comedy gold! A laugh began to erupt from his throat, and although he knew that this was cruel, he just couldn't help it, and in all honesty, couldn't really take the situation seriously. At last, Russia lifted his head from the pillow to reveal his tear stained face so that he could give America a glare. A sudden emptiness grew within his chest at the cruel reaction, so he tried to make himself sound more intimidating, "Stop laughing! I will kill you if-"
He clenched his eyes shut and whimpered at yet another rumble of thunder. It was then that America realized just how terrified Russia really was, and immediately stopped laughing. Guilt began to make the back of his neck grow warm as he tried to apologize, "Oh my- Russia, I'm so sorry! Please, don't be upset."
Russia didn't respond, but instead continued to sit there and cower, as if he was expecting to be hit. A pang of hurt caused America's throat to tighten. He wasn't used to seeing his former rival in such a petrified, broken state. Instead of teasing the poor Russian, as he originally planned on doing, he instead brought him into a tight embrace. At first, Russia didn't seem to respond to the affection, but it didn't take too long for him to struggle his way out of America's arms. When the younger nation gently tried to keep Russia in his hug, he immediately gave up on trying to force Russia to stay in his arms when he was hit in the face by the squirming nation. America cringed when he felt some pain coming from his front teeth, and felt around with his tongue to see if any damage had been done. He was relieved to find that his teeth were still there in perfect condition, and the blood that he tasted was only from biting the inside of his mouth on accident when the older nation's fist came into contact with his face.
At first, America was furious with the fact that Russia had just hit him when he tried to be comforting, but the fury immediately diminished when he noticed that his beloved appeared to be trapped in his own fear filled world. America's tone was soft, as he tried to snap Russia back into reality, "Don't be scared, Russia. I'm not going to hurt you."
As Russia continued to stare at him fearfully, America slowly moved his hand towards the older nation so that he could gently stroke his hair without startling him. Even though Russia didn't flinch away from the touch, it was still obvious that he was uncertain of America's presence. Seeing as Russia didn't show any signs of lashing out, he decided to allow his other hand to slowly approach his dearest and rest Russia's upper back area. This time, he scooting closer to the grey hair nation so it would be easier for him to pull him into a gentle embrace without having to move his frightened companion too much.
Another crackle of thunder erupted from outside making the power go out, and causing Russia to yelp and bury his face into America's shoulder. America shushed the trembling form in his arms and whispered into his ear, "It's okay. It was just some thunder."
Eventually, after a long while of being held in America's arms, Russia's tremor finally died down, and he was completely leaning against the one holding him due to exhaustion. When the thunderstorm seemed to be over, America decided to say, "Again Russia, I'm so sorry about laughing at you. I guess I was too stupid to realize that something might of happened, and that's why you were so terrified."
There was a moment of silence before Russia finally asked, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
America couldn't help but be appreciate of the fact that the lights were still out, for he could feel a small blush creep up on his face when he heard Russia's voice. Instead of being somewhat malicious, as it usually would when he was using a childish tone, it sounded more as if he was an innocent, frightened child. It just made America want to coddle the poor nation and protect him from any culpability or distress he was feeling. Therefore, he decided to reassure him, "Don't worry about it, you're fine."
Russia curled up in America's arms, resting his head against the younger nation's chest as he became more somnolent. America smiled at this, and decided to lay the older nation down and snuggle with him before wrapping a thick blanket around the two of them. Then, he kissed Russia's forehead before saying, "Just rest now, Russia. I'm not going to leave any time soon."
When he felt Russia snuggle into him once more, America couldn't help but wish that his lover could be dependent like this more often. Sure, at first he did need some time to accustom to a more vulnerable Russia, but he couldn't help but thrive at the sense of control he had when his boyfriend, one of the most powerful nations out there who was capable of scaring anyone, was relying on him for protection from his phobia. As much as he just wanted to see that submissive side of Russia in his every day life, he was still grateful for the fact that he was able to experience such a rare occasion in the first place.
Meanwhile, Russia continued to relax in the warmth that was now surrounding him, even though he was still somewhat embarrassed by the fact that America had found out his secret, and had to comfort him. Soon enough though, the embarrassment was forgotten, and he was finally lulled to sleep as the raindrop's pitter patter that once frightened him became more of a soothing white noise.