Written for the Kink Meme
Russia watched America scurry around, intent on finding his misplaced cell phone. He would run from one side of the room to the other, sticking his hands in people's pockets, ducking his head under the table and glancing underneath chairs. Russia chuckled under his breath. He had left the room and wandered into the kitchenette where he had seen America before the meeting. Glancing around, he considered the possible places that the phone could have gone. Glancing anywhere food was held, his eyes finally fell upon the fridge and he recalled having seen America with a can of yogurt in his hands earlier on in the meeting. Once again giggling to himself, he open the fridge and pulled out the phone.
Walking back slowly to rejoin everyone, Russia stared at the phone in his hands. People kept their number in their phones, right? Shaking his head he slipped the phone back into his pocket and thought about how creepy it would seem if he suddenly called America on that number. His thinking had brought him to the door and he could hear the sound of America's frantic running coming from inside. Making sure no one was looking, he set the phone down next to the closed door and turned to leave, the meeting was almost over anyway.
oOo
America could be such a slob. The very thought made Russia pout even more as he stared down at America's pile of notes, if you could call them that. Covered in scribbles and pictures of interesting things happening to England (Alien abduction, chased by flying knitting needles, ect.) they where a right mess. America's boss would not be pleased. He couldn't help but crack a smile as he pulled out his own notes, perfect due only to the fact there was little else for him to do at meetings.
A quick glance proved him to be alone in the room. Sitting himself down, he began to copy out his notes, changing his handwriting ever so slightly so it wouldn't be recognized. He finished quickly and laid the new notes atop the colored ones, straightening the pile so that it formed a neat little stack. Shoving his notes back into his inside coat pocket he swiftly exited the room.
oOo
Russia stared at the bottle on the table. A gossip magazine lay next to it, open to a page that was very well worn regardless of the fact that it had only gotten there two days ago. America and England seen together in Cardiff last weekend... It was a french magazine, made by France, and shipped off to all of the nations whether they wanted it or not. But the bottle, the bottle was almost empty.
Damn it all, it just wasn't fair. He didn't mean to drive America away. Because, he was pretty sure he had. But, it was enough just seeing him. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand he made a decision. America never needed to know.
oOo
Sheets of rain where pouring off of Russia's umbrella. He stood next to his car as he watched America slam his door and run as quickly as he could to the meeting hall, completely forgetting to lock his car. Sighing at the American's complete inability to remember even the most simple of things, he began to trudge over to the unlocked car.
He felt the last of the warm air from inside the car wash over him as he pulled the door open enough to fit his hand through. Sighing contentedly, he pushed down the lock by the window and closed the door. Silly American, would he ever learn?