I wrote this in one rush, while I was listening to the song Cold War Transmissions. It's perfect for America/Russia, so I recommend checking it out. On another note, I don't ow Hetalia: Axis Powers nor Russia nor America. Go RusAme!
Enjoy reading!
In the Middle
The cold was the first thing he noticed this morning. Every normal day, as far as these days were normal, he woke up next to his own, personal, fireplace. But not today. The bed was cold, empty. Shivering America sat up and dragged himself to the bathroom, intend on taking a long, hot shower. After he dressed he went down, making breakfast for himself and his disappeared lover. He took his IPhone from the table and touched the screen. The time and date were immediately visible on the small display. Alfred took another mouthful and began chewing, until the meaning of the date settled in his brain. Today. January eleventh. Today they would tell the rest. But where was Russia? He should be with him, to whisper nonsense meant to comfort him in his ear, and he would do the same to him! Suddenly aware of the nerves in his stomach, Alfred decided it was the best if he stopped eating now. He glanced again to his phone. He couldn't wait for Ivan, although he really wanted to, but then he wouldn't be in the meeting room before the others. And he had to be, because he always was. And it would be weird for them to see him and Ivan arrive together, what off course would imply he had spent the night with Russia. Though that was true, he didn't want the rest to now that just yet. All on his own terms. And now also those of Russia, he supposed. So he grabbed the IPhone, put on his bomber jacket, and called a taxi. Today's meeting was held in Moscow, but Ivan had taught him a few simple phrases in Russian, so he should manage.
When he entered the meeting room, lots of eyes turned to him. Oh yeah, he had forgotten to change the time zone on his phone. One pair of violet eyes, at the head of the table, sparkled with amusement. One of America's eyebrows crept upwards. Disapproving mumbles went through the room while he walked to his seat (next to Russia, because he was that important, even if the meeting wasn't held in his country) and sat down. Glancing to his left, he saw the smile dancing on Russia's lips. "Now?" he hissed through his teeth. Russia didn't give a single reaction. When everyone had calmed down and a bunch of papers had been dumped in front of Alfred, the meeting progressed. Just as America began thinking about ways to spice this meeting up, he felt a soft touch to his upper legs. When he looked down he saw a small, inconspicuous note laying there. Unnoticed by the rest, he opened it and read the content. He gave a soft gasp, but it was enough to get everyones attention. Again. It wasn't that he didn't like attention; on the contrary, he loved attention, but just not now. He plastered his trademark smile on his face and coughed, as if it had been his intention to interrupt the meeting. He stood up and prepared himself for the inevitable. "Well, I just wanna say, I and the Commie bastard are kind of together right now." Blunt had always been his style. He didn't like endless games and unspoken hints. No, he much preferred the straight-forward way, not hindered by secret alliances and agreements. With a grin on his face he sat again, looking satisfied at everyone, who all wore very interesting grades of shock.
His brother Matthew was one of the first to snap out of it and congratulated them with an uncertain smile, but a smile nonetheless. Arthur and Francis looked accepting too, but the same was not to say for Russia's family members. Ukraine looked disappointed and Belarus openly murderous. Though he was not sure who would be her first victim: he or Ivan. Another, quite unexpected reaction was from Hungary, squealing like her deepest wish just had been fulfilled; though he couldn't imagine why. Germany's jaw still lay on the table, ignoring, or perhaps not hearing, the excited babbling of his lover Italy, and spoken about lovers... Suddenly uncertain, he looked to Ivan, not knowing what to expect. Maybe he had wanted to tell it himself? Or maybe he didn't want the rest to know after all? Or he didn't think this was the right time? But there was nothing to be afraid of: when he looked in the eyes of his not-so-secret-anymore lover, all he saw was relief. Had Russia been afraid of telling it? … Nah, Russia wasn't afraid. Of anything. But he wasn't angry with Alfred either. And suddenly those eyes were all that mattered. Once he had thought them to be empty, cold being the only thing that inhabited those violet orbs. But over the last few months he had seen so many other emotions in them, and he had grown to love them, and after that he had seen so many different layers of Russia, and slowly he had been falling in love with those things either; he assumed it had been the same vice versa. Forgetting everything and everyone else, America leaned to the left, Russia leaned to the right, and their lips met in the middle.
I'm not sure yet if I'll write another chapter, so I'll leave the option open for now. But hey, I even managed to put some politics in a romance story, near the end!
Tell me what you think?