Written for the '12 Days of Christmas' event on Livejournal's RussiAmerica community. The prompt was 'Apocalypse Zombie Christmas Attack'. Enjoy~

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"I have been thinking..." Russia's voice was hoarse, conversational as it ricocheted through the branches surrounding the both of them. America made no indication that he'd heard, opting instead to raise his shotgun slowly and take aim at a shambling figure that had stupidly drifted into range.

America fired his weapon and both of them watched as the figure's head jerked viciously with the force of the bullet-- skull fragments and long congealed blood coloring the fresh layer of snow that had fallen the night before. The humancreaturezombie fell to the ground and didn't move. America threw his arms up in victory while Russia rolled his eyes.

"Now that you've wasted more of our ammunition, maybe you'll listen to me?"

The wide grin dropped from America's face to be replaced with a very firm accusation that could mean nothing but 'Kill-joy'.

"Sure, yea." Was the response that Russia received as America leaned up to shove the his gun into the backpack hanging dejectedly from the branch above them. When he was finished, the firearm secure, he looked over at Russia. "What's on your mind? I'm guessing it has something to do with the ravenous hordes of the undead milling about?"

"A little, yes."

Rustling from somewhere on the ground and Russia knew there were at least a dozen more zombies ready to try their hand at a late evening snack.

"I am beginning to think that we should no longer celebrate the holidays together."

"What!?" America wobbled suddenly and Russia caught him before his surprise could send him crashing through the branches of the tree into the pack of shamblers at the bottom. When they were both steady again, America looked up at him with very clear hurt in his blue eyes. "W-why not?"

Maybe he should've worded that differently. Russia licked his lips, felt them cool instantly with the frigidness of the December air. He tugged lightly on America's jacket. It was three tugs before the other nation took it as a signal to scoot closer. A few moments of ungraceful shifting later and they were both curled up together and warm, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

Russia continued.

"... Well, this happens every year and I'm not one to believe in luck or anything of that sort-- but we seem to have awful luck. Maybe we should celebrate things on the off days?"

America snorted, but didn't lift his head from where he'd rested it on Russia's shoulder.

"C'mon Russia, it wasn't zombies last year. You and I both know that alien invasions, uprisings of the mole-people and zombie apocalypses are three entirely different scenarios." The frown that formed on Russia's face was painful, but America continued before he could think to just throw him to his death right then and there. "Besides, I don't think any of the bities have gotten out of the valley, so it's safe to assume my quarantine was effective-- who says paranoia doesn't get you anywhere?"

"Forget I said anything. I will just be sure to have my dragon-slaying equipment ready for Valentine's Day." And pain-killers. Sooo many pain-killers.

Silence fell over both of them, interrupted only by the mindless drone that drifted up from the congregation. America pressed closer to him and Russia felt himself beginning to drift off.

"... Russia?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh... Merry Christmas..."

"Merry Christmas, America."

-End-