I don't own APH, it's characters, or the author—wait…what?
Rated M for future chapter(s) ;) You chose to read this story, I see no need to warn you about M stuff. M is M for a reason, duh.
This is my first real APH FF, please be nice and comment/review please~ it's my first one~!
Note: I think it's more fun to read if you set your FF to Dark Mode ,kolkolkol~!
America sank into his seat. He was up all night trying to write down all of the problems he wanted to bring up at this month's World Meeting. He kicked himself for waiting until the last minute to do it, but procrastination came naturally to him. He decided that he would blame England later for raising him without teaching him properly about that stuff.
Fortunately, in a hurry to beat everyone else there, he came an hour early. He set his papers on the giant table he was sitting at and got up to go take a little walk around, instead of writing down more issues to bring up like a worry wart. It was his White House, so it was okay to go anywhere he wanted.
He walked out of the restroom, sighing with boredom. Maybe he should go buy a burger at the McDonald's down the street. He shook his head, deciding he would be hungrier after the meeting, and it'd be more fun to make everyone go with him to send their taste buds on a rollercoaster ride to heaven and back as his big welcome to his home country.
He proudly smiled. "Hell yeah!"
Today was gonna be an awesome day!
Everyone would complain to him for help, like they did every time.
He looked out of the window at the bright blue, cloudless sky. It was pretty cold and windy today. A little bit of him wished Russia would ask him for help once in a while. He shook his head again and adjusted Texas on his nose like a cool guy. He decided he would make Texas transitional so he could stare into the sun when he wanted.
He looked around, feeling a little hyper. He felt like skipping but he started taking unnecessarily big steps. He blew up his chest like he was buff and made his voice deep.
"Grr! Watch out, I'm Russia! I'm gonna step on you, da!"
He heard an all too familiar scream behind him. He quickly went back to normal and turned around to see Canada freaking out.
"A-America! You sounded just like him! Don't ever do that again!"
America rolled his eyes with a sigh. He was in a good mood, so he didn't feel like messing with Canada today.
"I'm sorry, bro." He patted his younger brother's head, making him calm down a little. "Why dontchya get some coffee to calm yourself down in the meeting room?"
"U-Um…won't that make me more jumpy?"
"Of course not!" He turned him around and slapped on the back, not very hard. "Go get ya some maple syrup coffee, dude!"
Canada paused, unsure, then smiled faintly and quietly walked down, knowing exactly where to go, since he had come over so many times before.
America watched him turn the corner and then turned himself to bump into a wall. He stumbled back and fell to the floor. He immediately got angry. "God—" He looked up and saw Russia's hand in his face.
"I'm sorry, America. I thought you would keep walking behind Canada so I kept walking…"
America didn't believe him. This had happened almost every time they met at the World Meetings. Russia would always be behind him and they'd run into each other.
America whacked his hand away, not wanting to wait until the next it happened to address the problem. Russia frowned, his big purple eyes showing a flash of anger behind them. America got up by himself and fixed Texas, hoping Russia would be scared of him.
Russia stood back up, still looking down at America. "I'm sorry…I know you're thinking I do this on purpose…"
America relaxed a little. He must have Russian spies running around his house, using some kinda commie device from the Cold War to get into his head and tell Ivan his thoughts. To prove himself right, he thought "I think Russia's nose got bigger since the last time I saw him…" which was a perfectly reasonable thought for America to think.
No obvious response. America felt kinda bad now.
"I am not sure how to…" He struggled to find the right expression in English. "I am not sure how to make it up to America…"
America had many, many things he wanted from Russia, but he wasn't about to just tell him what he wanted. Heroes didn't show their weaknesses to anyone at all!
"Yeah right…" He muttered and walked away, back to the meeting room. His day had just been ruined completely.
Russia caught up to him, walking beside him. "America—"
"Do ya want another Cold War? Or should we discuss the start of the Nuclear War we've been worrying about so much lately? Yeah! Let's just blow each other up, Russia! Maybe we should just get it over with!"
"America, what's wrong with you—"
"You're 'what's wrong' with me, Ivan!"
Russia smiled a little at America using his name in such a disturbed way." I'm sorry America…we can go to your room after the meeting later, da?"
Russia was being himself again. America nervously cleared his throat.
"I'm not doing that again, Russia. Once was enough for me. And I'm sorry I used your other name like that…"
Russia chuckled and bent down to whisper in America's ear, breathing cold air onto his neck, making him shiver. "As long as you scream it, I don't mind you using my other name."
America immediately punched him in his jaw, making Russia spit out a little blood.
"You commie bastard…I'm the most powerful nation in the world, and you're in MY house talking to ME like that! I told you I'd never do it again! Besides, that time I really didn't have a choice! So go to the meeting room or I'm calling it off forever!" America yelled at him, trying to find any better threats to throw out there.
Russia licked at the blood, smiling wildly at the taste of it, wishing it was America's.
America swallowed hard, finding it hard to not look away from those violet eyes, clearly showing the blood he had tasted from his enemies before in a purple-tinted flashback. Some of those were American men. Red splashing on the pure, yet not so pure, snow on the wet and muddy roads…
America furiously punched the other jaw, more blood flying. Russia shoved him down to the floor and kicked him in the side. America pulled Russia down to him and shoved his knee into the taller man's stomach, making him cough harshly.
Russia pulled out his pipe from his coat and pushed it against Alfred's throat. Alfred's bright blue eyes burned with so many raging emotions that Russia had to choke back a laugh. This was a nice change. He hadn't seen Alfred so angry in a long time. Russia punched America's cheek, making Texas fly off his face and break in half. America let out a gasp, choking as Russia pressed harder.
"You think you're at the top of the world, Alfred…but you're not. You're just keeping my throne warm for me when I'm at the top soon…"
"D-Dammit, Ivan!" He shoved Russia off of him with all his might, miraculously getting him down and under his legs.
He looked down at Russia, straddling him, panting.
"Who's at the top now, Ivan! Huh!" He felt tears come but he blinked them away and put his hands around Russia's throat. "Give up, Ivan! I'm more powerful than you'll ever be! You'll never take me down! You can try all you want, but my people have something you can't possibly offer in a billion years, and it's something you'll never get by yourself! Just give up already!"
Russia had easily ruffled Alfred's feathers. For once, he felt a small pang of guilt. He wanted to cry. He loved seeing everyone else get this angry, but now that thrill he always felt was completely gone. America was scared of him, deep inside, and they both knew it. Russia got his turn of choking and gasping for air as America angrily strangled Russia.
"Hey, Hey, hey!" England rushed in, China running close behind him. Japan, Germany, Italy, France, Canada, and a few others frantically turned the corner, not sure what to do.
England and China ripped Ivan and Alfred apart. For China's size, everyone was surprised as to how he was able to keep Ivan back. For security, China pulled back on both ends of the long scarf Ivan was wearing.
England struggled at first, trying to keep the thrashing and screaming America back away from Russia, who was angrily glaring at him from a good distance away.
England whispered something into America's ear, making him almost instantly relax. No one asked, or had any idea, about what England said. Seeing them fight was a bad sign. Nuclear War was not something they wanted.
It seemed like another Cold War as America and Russia were at opposite ends of the table. America tried to avoid the glare for the first few minutes by cradling the Broken Texas in his hands. The middle part had been taped together. He could never call Texas a dork, but he chose not to wear them. His headache was already bad.
Neither of them spoke for hours as they exchanged angry glares, alternating with sad and hurt glances. England took America's paper of issues and presented them for him, although it was just an attempt to ignore what had just happened between them. It was so bad that Greece was wide awake the whole time.
It became dark, and much more quickly than normal. Heavy clouds covered the sky and a few droplets hit the windows, and then quickly became a loud thunderstorm. The weather seemed to fit with the imaginary clouds that were above Russia and America's heads.
England, looking more depressed than normal, announced that they should go home before the storm gets any worse.
"My driver would never come out here…" Japan commented.
"I can take you, Japan." China patted his shoulder. "Arigato gozaimasu, Chugoku-san." Japan smiled.
The lights flickered a few times, but America was no longer feeling down about hitting Russia or yelling at him. The thunder and lightning flashes made him feel more charged and ready to kick some commie ass right about now.
Russia was giving him the same look, almost never blinking. America didn't want to blink, just in case he would attack. As if those spies were hearing his thoughts, he saw Ivan move his hand off of the table, and to the inside of his coat. America stood up, reaching inside of his pilot's jacket, with his right hand, for one of his two handguns. He didn't care which one. Everyone's heads turned to the only one standing, America, who was keeping his bright blue eyes on the Russian man on the other end of the table. The lights flickered off and a loud shot, obviously from a gun, was heard, echoing through the large room. America didn't feel anything at first, numb from the shock. He moved his left arm, making a stinging, aching, throbbing pain through his neck and spine and across his chest. He screamed a little, all too familiar with this pain, and pulled out one handgun with his good hand and ducked down. He could hear everyone moving around and pulling out swords and guns and other weapons, muttering all kinds of things. He could hear Italy and Germany and Canada close by. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his collar. He swung himself around and put the gun to the person's arm, yelling "I'm gonna shoot back!" Everyone gasped, moving around again. Every time the lightning flashed, he could see the scared, angry, and shocked faces. The hand blindly put his hand on America's cheek and he sensed the person get closer. "Don't worry, Alfred. It's me, so calm down you Yankee git." America knew it was England, and he felt a little better.
The lights came back on, and everyone instantly looked around for someone they knew and trusted. China had his woks and pots out, and then set them down on the table, relaxing. France tucked something back under the table, and no one saw it. Japan was in front of America, putting away his katana. Germany was standing in front of Italy, standing next to Canada, who was trying to be braver than Italy by holding a pistol out, his arms locked too tightly to work right. Italy tightly held onto his white flag, tears running down his face.
America was busy with looking for Russia. He was nowhere to be found.
"America. America. America!" America looked up at England, who was pulling him up into his lap. Japan was kneeling next to England and Alfred, worrying about the bullet wound. America had numbed it all. It had to be mind over matter when it came to repetitive stuff like that.
They started taking off his jacket, and he snapped out of his trance to grab at it with his good arm.
"Hey!"
"Alfred, please quit acting like a child so we can help you. I'll fix it, okay?"
America felt like a little kid no matter what anyone else said. Everyone was freaking out about him and took care of things while he could leave his mind to concentrate on other things.
"Ivan…" America closed his eyes and laid his head back, feeling the others take off his shirt and work on the wound with the advanced medical kit that Greece brought for an emergency. That damn commie. Had he really just been shot by Ivan? It looked like it, but there are plenty of other people that hated him at the time….any country could have shot Alfred.
Russia came in with everyone's superiors, and The President rushed over to Alfred.
"America! Oh my Lord, what happened!" He was crying angry tears. "This is my fault…"
England's superior pulled him away for a little bit, trying to comfort the poor President. He had two states injured, Texas and Alaska, one by Russia and one by an unknown country. It was a big shock, and the rainstorm outside wasn't helping the mood either.
Everyone's superiors were trying to calm their countries down, telling them to be careful but to stick close with your allies, whispering gentle words into their ear, like a father and their child, or simply proclaiming that they will find out who did this horrible act and what they will do when they find out who did it. Russia's superior was nowhere to be found.
Russia sat in front of America, holding his hands. They were getting cold. He tried to keep him warm, but his shirt was off, and he didn't want to touch his arms, in case he hurt him again.
Japan and England got the bullet out and placed it on a napkin after cleaning it off. Japan had easily recognized it as an American bullet from an American gun, which was slightly rare, since one or the other was normally imported to him.
He knew it was from an American gun, because of the shape of the bullet. No other country had seen it before, so Alfred must have been testing new bullet shapes. It was 7 or 8 inches long, about an inch and a half in diameter at the round end, with 6 small fin-like edges at the round end. It was a way too big to be shot from a handgun. Japan realized that it was made to assassinate.
Japan was very curious about this bullet. First of all, who would shoot America, and why? Well…that question certainly had varied answers, but he had not done anything to anyone that night or just recently, except for fighting with Russia earlier.
Russia-san.
It had to be him.
But why with an American gun? To make it look like suicide? No, of course not…Besides, his handguns couldn't possibly shoot this kind of bullet. Russia's eyes quickly averted from Japan's suspecting glare.
"This isn't going to heal over quickly…it scraped the bone." England told Japan and everyone else, indirectly. "Greece, help us out over here..."
I promise you yaoi in Chapter Two! ;D
Note: In Soviet Russia, darkness sees in you! So set your FF to Dark Mode at the top of the story page, plzthnks! :D I wuv you, and so does Ivan.