A/N: My friend and I cosplayed our countries for no reason (I'm America, of course, and she's Russia) and meandered around the park and Walmart and, of course, McDonald's. This was an idea I got somewhere along the line. xD
I'm sad, because Hetalia's America is still a creditor nation, but now he's in debt and his economy is shit. I wrote this story with that in mind, and I mention this because I don't want anyone to call him OOC. Things change with time, you know? That holds true for countries especially. America's a lot different now from how he was in the '40s. I wish he wasn't, but what does wishing ever do?
Don't freak out on me with politics, please...
Go Somewhere
America hurried into the park, agitated mumbling muffled by the gloves in his mouth as he fumbled with his belt. Russia was visiting his home for the first time in ages, and he was late.
He paused at the fountain, pulling his gloves on and glancing around, when a familiar voice drew his attention. He turned, and his eyes fell immediately on a tall man standing next to the lamp post, a folded blanket tucked under his arm and a scarf wound around his neck despite the August evening heat. America grinned.
"Vanya!" he said, rushing to the older nation. "Sorry I'm late - Tony went into the kitchen with the weed-eater and all the dishes were - well, there was glass everywhere, he even broke the window - and Iggy can always sense when something goes wrong somehow, he called to gloat or something, and it took forever to get him off the phone and - "
Russia's smile widened and he shook his head, cutting off the other superpower without saying a word in a way that made countless other countries green with envy. "You were only late by a few minutes," he said in that pleasant, even voice. "And I've brought the blanket."
America smiled back, without a clue. They'd made no plans, other than where to meet. "The blanket for what?"
Five minutes later saw the answer to his question, as they laid on their backs and stared up at the stars. Russia had his hands folded neatly on his stomach and seemed content to gaze into the sky for hours. America, sprawled out and taking up more room than should be possible, jacket and gloves strewn next to him, couldn't figure out what was so interesting about it.
"The clouds are moving so slowly," he finally muttered, hating the silence.
He could hear a smile in the older man's voice as he replied, "You're so impatient, Alfred."
"The stars are boring. They don't go anywhere."
"But we see them the same way everyone else does." Russia glanced his way, and seemed to consider his words before he spoke them. "England could be watching the stars just like you are, and seeing the same thing you do."
America didn't look back at him, and was silent for a long moment, before huffing and tearing out a fistful of grass; lifting his hand, he let the blades fall loosely from his fingers. "I don't care what Iggy does," he muttered, sounding almost convincing to his own ears.
Russia chuckled. "Your other brother then."
"Oh, Mattie?" America laughed then, and the atmosphere was light again in an instant. "I don't think so, he doesn't like being out this late." He could feel Russia's eyes boring into him, and wondered if the bigger nation caught the abrupt swing of his mood. He changed the subject. Rolling over onto his stomach, he propped himself up on his elbows and gave Russia a measuring look that he'd once seen Germany use to great affect on Italy. "You look thin. Are you okay?"
Russia's turned his head to the side, and he smiled again, looking almost amused. "My people are hungry; we lost a lot of crops this year."
America's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Do you need - "
"Perhaps you should worry about yourself before others."
It was said carefully, and somehow still felt like a slap in the face. America sat up and stared at him, eyes bright and furious behind his glasses. Russia sat up too, slowly, and met him gaze for gaze. Finally the younger state muttered, "I'm fine."
"You're going through another economic crisis."
"I'm not depressed!"
"But you're not healthy either."
America clenched his hands into fists, staring at the edge of the blanket. It was a moment before he could calm himself enough to respond rationally to his ally; he didn't want to shout at that patient face. "I've got through it before, I'll get through it again. I'll be strong enough somehow, that's what the hero's for."
"And you have to be the hero, right?"
Snapping his head up, he grinned in relief at the escape Russia had given him. "Definitely! If not me, who else?"
Russia smiled, and for a moment there was a softness in his face that didn't belong there. And then it was gone and the superpower was standing, offering a hand to help the younger state to his feet. America looked confused but reached out to take his hand anyway, a gesture that would always mean more than he'd ever understand. And as Russia gathered the blanket he asked, "The swings or the merry-go-round?"
America stooped to scoop up his jacket and gloves. "Neither of them go anywhere," he murmured.
Russia's laugh surprised him. "You just can't sit still can you?" The taller man smiled crookedly, and America was confused again by that softness, and by the weird warmth in his chest.
"Alright, Al." A gloved hand was held out to him, and he took it again without thinking. That indulgent smile widened, the warmth in America's chest expanded and Russia said, "Let's go somewhere."
.
End.
A/N: This was something meant to be cute, not politically correct. I'm sorry if I made them too friendly with each other for your taste; this is the way I like them, anyway. And I blame Stalin for the difficulties in their relationship. That bastard. But I'll spare you that speech, don't worry.
And yes, the technically correct term for America is "state". I learned that in government the other day and felt all smart writing this. :D
Please review!