Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did... You would probably be even more obsessed if you're a big fan of Russia/America/England. Lol.
Please forgive me if I mess up anything historically. Hetalia is inaccurate anyway, so who cares? : )
BTW... I did OOC them this time, I'm pretty sure. I was going for a more serious fic. :'P First time with a serious fanfiction like... Ever. Don't be to awefully harsh, I'm delicate. xD
New York, 1863
A tired, worn face watched it's owner. Half of him wanted to laugh, the other urged him to cry. Aches and pains were present all over his body, a few wraps kept him from bleeding through his old suit. It was the only one he owned, and he hated it with a strong passion, but he would wear it tonight.
Eleven of America's beloved states had secessed from his other half during this repulsive Civil War, and he had been running back and forth between the two sides. He couldn't dare decide between them, because that would be picking between himself and himself. He was torn in half. Bloodied. Exhausted. He couldn't be the hero this time. He couldn't decide. He couldn't--
"Enough!" America snapped at himself, slamming his hand on his desk. He winced in pain. Normally that would have broken the wood in two, quite easily. Now, it just made his hand hurt.
His boss had talked to him a few hours ago. He really wanted him to come to some kind of party within the Union. A party seemed quite inappropriate, but he was willing to cooperate. Maybe it would help to settle his nerves, even if just for a moment.
America left the house and shut the door softly, as if he were afraid it would fall if he was to rough with it, even if he was weak. His bottom lip jutted out as he thought on this, shoving his hands in his pockets, walking past his horse. He was supposed to use her to get to the New York Academy of Music, but he decided he would walk there himself. After all, he was dressed so nicely, and he never rode a horse nice. England would strangle him if he were to see such a sight. 'If he even cared anymore. Not that I care for him, anyway...' The young nation thought bitterly.
America walked in through the front doors, and his foot sank into beautiful, soft carpet. He gasped. This academy he had been to before, and it had never looked this wonderful. The furniture looked like he could settle in and sleep for hours, pain or no pain. The floors were infact different, with the previously mentioned carpet, much different then the usual set up. What could the occasion possibly be? He hadn't been paying any attention at all, for the past couple of years he had been dealing with a split personality that hadn't been allowing him to pay close attention to anything. Not that he ever had.
He gave his invitation to the man waiting around the corner. He took it and smiled, gesturing for him to move on. Many of America's Union citizens were making their way in, women all adorned in beautiful silks and jewels. Then men all wore suits and coats much like America's, new and never worn. He was starting to wish he had been focusing better before.
He followed the crowd of people, not stopping to admire the art. He noticed a few, some he recognized, others he thought were quite interesting. He kept going, however, wishing to get to the main point of the ball. This was no regular party, it was certainly more lavishing than that. What was this about, anyway?
After a few stairs and exiting through several rooms, he made it to the central doors. There were boxes lining the left and right walls, and there were flowers (big, beautiful flowers) marking the exits. It was hard for America to not be so overwhelmed by all of this. Such elegance and beauty in such a terrible time. His bones where really starting to ache from all of the walking, as well. He started making his way down a huge hall, one that he no longer recognized, and entered the auditorium.
That's when he remembered the whispers. The rumors. The ideas of foreign relations between the Union and...
Draped over one of the proscenium boxes was two flags; one of the Union, and one that belonged to Russia. At the centre of the first tier was a model of the General Admiral, and code which read,"Welcome Russia."
America had been so caught up in his own struggle, he had forgotten about the growing affections between half of his citizens and Russia. His other half, was currently trying to grab the attention of France and England, who were both refusing to recognize the confederacy as a nation on it's own. Of course not. It was only half of America. Half of Alfred.
"I have been so anxious to see you again, Мое дорогое."
The voice that spoke out was oddly inticing, the foreign words danced in America's ears made his heart flutter. He hadn't heard that voice for what seemed like forever in the midst of all of this. That voice that made his heart flutter like a bird, and his stomach drop at the same time.
When America turned around, he was met with brilliant, piercing violet eyes that seemed to see right through his weak and fragile heart. "Russia. It's nice to see you."
It was easy to see that the Americans of the Union and the Russian Navy were fascinated with one another. The festivities were just starting, and he could see many of the Russian and American men alike taking the flustered and beautiful American women by the hand and leading them into a dance.
Russia held out his hand, and America took it.
The two danced a bit slower than the actual music, looking quite awkward amongst the others on the dance floor. Worn and exhausted, America could do no more than that. Russia was sure to keep the pace acceptable for the younger nation's condition. He had heard that the worst of his battles, like Antietem, were over. The struggling young nation could only go uphill from the point he was at now, but he was not about to push it. America's troubles were far from over.
Russia wrapped one arm around America's waist, and he did not flinch. Russia was strong, but not forceful. The blond found it rather enjoyable after a while, the movement not being as rough as it had been recently. Russia led exceptionally well.
"It should not be much longer now, da?"
America pulled himself from his thoughts, and the blissful sound of the music, to look back into Russia's eyes. They pulled him in like a magnet. "What?"
"You are looking better then I have heard. You have successfully abolished slavery."
America smiled, appreciating the praise. "Yes, and I couldn't have done it without my boss. I can't say I'm not paying for it now, but if it reaches toward progression and the reunification of my people, it will all be worth it."
His sides started to sting, his thoughts returning to his struggling South. However, he tries to ignore it, and returns his attention to the nation that held him.
"Of course it will, America. You must not lose hope yet. My people are quite taken with you, as well as myself, as you are." The older nation sighed, bringing up one hand to brush aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen in America's face. He tucked it behind his ear.
America blushed, and smiled weakly. "Thank you. This means a lot to me. Safe to say, I'll be incredibly relieved once this is all over, but I'll need all the friends I can get. I can't say I'm the favorite nation in England's eyes." Russia snorted, and America laughed lightly.
Neither nation was quite favored in England's eyes right now.
The music faded, and a new song began to play. It was much to fast for America, so the two nations released each other, and walked toward one of the many tables. America wasn't up to eating, and Russia didn't say anything, so they left the tables of food alone.
They sat across the table from each other, a vase of flowers making it hard to see one another. America was slightly out of breath from the dancing, but his spirits were lifted considerably. A small smile lingered on his features. "So, do you do this kind of thing often?" America started a new conversation, gesturing to the festivities. Russia shook his head and smiled. "Not many countries get along with me like you do." America chuckled. Not many countries had much to do with him right now either. Not that he could handle foreign relations now, anyhow.
As he watched the others dancing, laughing, smiling, and enjoying themselves, he could feel those violet eyes studying him. Watching him. It sent shivers down his spine. It was frightening, but exciting at the same time. It was new, yet something that wasn't bloody. Yes, he had already been on good terms with Russia. However, he had never been this close before. Their citizens were enjoying each other, speaking highly of each other. Apparently, it was now an occasion to celebrate the Russian Navy coming to the New York Harbor. There was a new sensation rippling through America, and it felt nice. He wasn't alone in his troubles.
"America?"
America looked back to the other nation, suddenly aware that he had been spacing out. Russia was sitting back in his chair, legs crossed, arms folded.
"America, would you like me to walk you home?"
The statement put America's brain in numb for a few seconds before he could comprehend what was being offered him. It was a party to celebrate Russia, but he was going to walk America home. The younger nation flushed, but smiled. "I would love that, Russia."
***
"Вы выглядите красивыми."
The foreign words were beautiful to America's ears, though he did not understand them. All the mattered was that the lips that spoke them belonged to someone who cared about him. At least like him enough to visit.
America and Russia were linked by the arm, and America was having trouble keeping up with the taller nation's pace, especially while being so tired. He knew his boss would be upset about him leaving early, but at the same time, at least he was still conversing with Russia. Strengthening up foreign relations was important, was it not? It's not like England would visit him for any benign reason any time soon. It was important for the struggling country to have friends, and as far as America was concerned, Russia was the best choice at the moment. The other nation seemed to inviting and kind, despite how cold his hands were.
Those long, slender fingers brushed America's cheek, and the younger nation stiffened. Those violet eyes seemed to pour into his ocean blue orbs. They had stopped in front of America's house.
"What did those words mean?" Curiosity bit at him, those beautiful Russian words still ringing in his ears.
"Позвольте мне искать Вас."
Those cold fingers lifted America's tired head upward. Russia was staring deeply into him, standing firm, lips pursed in a perfect line. He was standing straight, his eyes piercing.
America was shaking.
The older nation leaned over and gently pulled America closer by the waist, making the space between them quite limited. Russia rubbed their noses together, and leened closer still to his lips.
As the cold pressed down on him, America shuddered, his eyes growing as wide as the crystal blue ocean they represented. He instantly closed them, deciding it was best not to think in such a situation.
As America often didn't do.
He laced his fingers through Russia's hair, standing on the tips of his toes to try and make up for the height difference. His heart melted when the tongue of the older nation began to trace his bottom lip, and licked at the corners of his mouth. He didn't know how to describe that taste, but it reminded him of fields of grass, and perhaps flowers. Strange, seeing as he came from a place quite opposite of that description. He loved it.
Their tongues touched, ever so briefly. Russia pulled him closer, and America flushed, fumbling for the door knob.
Russia broke off and chuckled, untangling himself from America and tossing the shorter nation's hair.
"W-what's so funny?" America gasped, shifting uncomfortably. He couldn't imagine what had been funny about their kissing. He hadn't kissed or even got physically close to any country for quite a while. He couldn't imagine what he had done wrong though. The younger nation had been enjoying it.
"Do you really think I would want to take advantage of your weakened state and take your vital regions when you are doing exactly what works in my favor on your own?" Russia smiled teasingly, brushing the hair he had messed up back into place on America's head. The stubborn cowlick wouldn't go down, so he left it there.
America could feel the heat grow more intense beneath his cheeks. He hadn't exactly thought of himself as a country with responsibilities at that moment, and began to be shamefully aware of the bulge in his pants. "N-no, I guess not. It's rude to tease people like that you bastard!"
Russia emitted an adorable giggle and brushed his nose against America's gently in an eskimo kiss. The younger nation was still humiliated, but his anger died almost immediately. He had no idea as to what to say or not say. Needless to say, he had not had this experience yet before.
"It will be much more fun when you are stronger. Who knows when we may join together?" Beautiful, deep violet eyes captured America's fullest attention once again. "However, now is not that time. I believe you have a war to finish."
America nodded, averting his gaze. It was true, he was right.
"That doesn't explain why you had to start it in the first place."
Russia placed a gentle hand on America's shoulder, using the other to bring the younger nation's eyes to his once again. "Вы настолько симпатичны и уязвимы. Я не мог помочь этому." He kissed America's forehead and smiled delightfully at the frown that plastered the other male's face. It was obvious that America was dissappointed.
"I will contact you soon, Мое дорогое"
With those last words, Russia turned and walked away.
America sighed, unsatisfied, and walked back into his empty house; alone and divided.
AN: I know it sucks. D: I tried, I really did. xD No more serious for me for a while. I fail so hard at it. (Unless you like it. Then maybe I'll be inspired sooner. ;P) Review to make me happy, yes? :D
Translations:: (I'm sure these are inaccurate, so corrections are appreciated!)
Мое дорогое: My dear.
Вы выглядите красивыми: You look beautiful.
Вы настолько симпатичны и уязвимы. Я не мог помочь этому: You are so nice and vulnerable. I could not help it.