Could It Be You?
Rating: M
Summary: Blue eyes drift closed and hyacinth ones watch over the smaller form as his mind reflects over all of the joy the other had brought him. AmericaxRussia
BrooklynBabbii
Recommended Listening: "Could It Be You" by HWOOD
[RUSSIA]
"Erg…my burger, fuck off," the blonde murmured, too engrossed in his dream to feel hyacinth eyes watching over his sleeping form, as he slept.
Russia smiled— a true one not the empty and cruel one he showed to others, as he reached out and stroked the Nantucket, while its owner slept.
Well, he tried to sleep anyway, as soon as familiar fingers caressed the length, the strand seemed to stand straighter. The blonde murmured something incoherent in his sleep. His face dusted slightly, and Russia thumbed Nantucket's tip, trying for a reaction. He received one, in the form of the blonde's sudden shiver and mewls. Russia smiled again, as the blonde's eyes opened sleepily.
"Whaa-at?" the American began, as he tried to see through the darkness. The moonlight didn't go in his favor, as it barely rose over the Russian's broad barrel chest. "We had round...like what five…not even fifteen minutes ago," America whined.
"Give my ass a break here," America continued. "There's a world meeting tomorrow, and I need to be able to stand and walk properly, if I'm gonna make it on time and not look like a total dumbass who got his brains fucked out the night before."
"Da, there is a meeting tomorrow. " Russia said, nuzzling Nantucket and sending pleasurable shivers up the younger's spine. "I shall see to it you are presentable." The Russian, without another word, took the younger male into his arms.
Despite feeling a bit crushed, the American didn't protest, simply enjoying the cool skin against his cheek. "You better," American said around a yawn, "Or I'll…I'll…" Another yawn, "I'll…make you celibate for a week…"
Russia giggled, knowing the American would not stick by those words. The last time he had tried to make Russia celibate, it had ended with America demanding to be fucked until he couldn't walk straight.
This was…actually the night before in fact.
"Good night," Russia whispered into the younger's ear, and said male again murmured another incoherent phrase to which Russia translated as the only phrase of Russian America knew: "Whatever bastard, you're lucky I love you…Otherwise I wouldn't take your shit…"
Russia smiled. For all of his love's flaws, he never ceased to entertain him.
Russia smiled, as he deliberately ignored the strand of hair tickling his chin and begging for attention, even as he watched his lover feign sleep, with his blonde head tucked under his chin. He knew blue eyes were faking to be closed, as he could feel his love's gaze slipped under a thin crack, watching him and waiting for him to react.
So he didn't react, he kept himself subdued under pure will, as he let his mind wander.
He ran nimble fingers along the younger's spine, moving deliberating to avoid places he knew were sensitive to his touch. He ignored the place that was beginning to nudge at him from under the covers, begging for his attention. He ignored it all and took pleasure in driving his lover to the brink of his sanity, by keeping him as excited as he was and was getting by the other's deliberate ignorance.
His love grunted, but Russia ignored the nudging still, even as his love tried to make it seem more obvious yet somehow inconspicuous and innocent.
"Hm," the larger male hummed to himself, as he let his mind wander, as his love growled softly against him. He distantly felt his love's fingers taking hold of his chin. "Hey, Ivan, remember me?" Another nudge, more obvious as his love abandoned all inconspicuousness. He had foregone it for the detainment of his sanity. "Yeah, you started something, that I think you should finish— like right the fuck now."
Blue eyes narrowed at Russia's hyacinth, as he kept neglecting places on his love's body that screamed at him to be touched. "Hm, what was that, love?" He pulled away and his love frowned at the sudden loss of contact of skin. "I thought I was the one told to stop, so you could walk for the meeting tomorrow."
America narrowed his blue eyes, his infamous determination shining through clearly. "Fuck the meeting, fuck me now, you started this, now fix this."
Russia was all too happy to oblige.
But within his mind, amidst the passion threatening to cloud his judgment forever for any time his love walked anywhere near his vicinity, Russia thought back to how his love had been before…
"Hey you, commie bastard, yeah, I'm talking to you!"
Russia looked up from gathering his papers, trying to decipher who had spoken to him in such a way. Surely, no one was that stupid, he began to think but as he looked up, he corrected himself. No one but America…
Only America would be that foolish…
"Da, America, what do you wish of me?" He answered with an empty smile, but for some reason the young man was unfazed by what normally left grown men withering at their knees. His eyes showed no fear or even a shred of hesitation, as he approached the larger man.
The shorter blonde huffed defiantly, as he puffed out his chest. He jabbed a finger at Russia's sweater-clad chest. "You," he growled, looking up at violet eyes with nothing but pure determination and spite in his blue orbs. "Are a stupid…"
Then, the American began to sputter in laughter. He fought back giggles, as Russia cocked his head, puzzled. America doubled over, holding his knees as he began to outright laugh. He even slapped his knee. A gesture that made Russia put a small step of distance between them. I do believe, he thought, that this bastard is out of his damn mind…
America began to gather himself after a few minutes and finally asked after a small smile, revealing perfect little teeth, "Hey, you wanna go for a drink?"
"The hell?" someone breathed, some distance behind America. That someone turned out to be Germany, who stared at America as if he had just asked if the Russian wanted to go out for a drink…
Which he had…What shocked him more was that Russia accepted…
It would be the start of would later be usual trips to few bars both close to Russia's home and America's, chosen by none other than the smaller male. Russia never questioned it. He didn't see a need to, he needed a drinking buddy after Lithuania had chosen to leave him alone when he went out and Latvia hid from him.
Besides at one point in time, on one of their drinking ventures, he's found America to handle vodka surprisingly well. He had even challenged the Russian to a contest. Of course, Russia had won, but if not for the last five shots, America would have had him tied. He could hold his liquor surprisingly well, for someone who didn't look it and was connected to England— a terrible drunk.
It was also found that on the night, that America had forgotten the keys to his house at the meeting room. "You are an idiot, da?" Russian had mocked him, crossing his arms. America's face was sheepish as he scratched his head, "I can be, sometimes…" Blue eyes embarrassed, "Okay, more so when I'm about to go drinking…"
Russia had merely rolled his eyes and offered him a stay at his home…which surprisingly was close by.
The same day America had forgotten his keys… It should have occurred to Russia that the American might have been planning something, but his drunken mind hadn't thought to think of the circumstance and he hadn't.
It might not have led to where he had retired for bed, crawling under his covers, when he sensed movement in his room. His hand slipped underneath silk pillows, where his pipe was conveniently hidden from sight and just as he swung it out, a hand met the one on the pipe and held it from bashing his face in.
A drunken giggle and hiccup, and Russia's drunken mind finally registered who was with him, as knees created an impression at the foot of his well over king-size bed. It was as the pipe was pushed back to his side and moist lips, tasting of vodka, honey and berries, just leapt to his own and tried to devour them.
The sweet red berries, named after straw, that America always seemed to favor with his drinks, despite any and all of the stares he would receive from onlookers present— Russia included— when he used them to rim his drink before dipping it and slowly devouring the red berry slowly. It exploded on Russia's tongue, as America tangled theirs together. A seemingly long minute later, they broke apart. A strong of saliva was spaced between them, but it quickly broke.
"Wha—" He tried to begin, but Russia wasn't given a chance to speak, as America forced his mouth over Russia's again. Again the sweet taste came and Russia gave up his previous fight, deciding however this went –
He would be in charge of it.
He would awake, his mind reminding him he was still some part human with a raging hangover. "Va...ck," he swore softly, as he held his head steady to hopefully soften the pounding vibrating within its walls. His bleary mind tried to recall last night's events, but all that came to mind was the taste of sweets exploding over his tongue.
A soft sigh made his head snap back and all at once, last night's events hit across the face like a splash of cold water. "Not good," he said, "Not good."
As if awakened by his voice, blue eyes slowly opened and the light caught and revealed the golden flecks within the blue orbs. Russia watched and waited for the cry of outrage or horrified scream, even a cry or whimper, Russia waited for them all.
But they never came.
Instead America took a hiss of breath as he tried to sit up, then upon not even getting halfway up, gave up and flopped back down. He groaned, "Damn it, I had too much…My head hurts…"
Russia waited a few minutes longer and after that he just popped the question, "Are you going to scream or what?"
America blinked, "Scream?" His face was confused and if Russia hadn't known any better, he'd say a bit hurt. Good thing I know better, he thought as America continued, "What for?" Russia blinked at him as if the man was asking him if his name was Russia. Then again, knowing how forgetful he had been last night, it wouldn't surprise him if he was that low of intelligence.
"You are," Russia emphasized every word, "in my bed." America smiled, "Yes, I am, and it's very comforting so I'm taking my ass back to sleep before England has a spaz attack and blows up my phone."
A shrill ringing of a phone and America swore as Russia cocked a brow, "Speak of the devil and he calls."
America rolled his eyes, blushing slightly, "Shut up, commie bastard." He sighed, as he ruffled among his old clothes until he found his phone in his jacket. He slid his finger across and put it to his ear. "Yes," he answered. England's barely muffled retort of: "Where the bloody hell are you? Your door is locked and you were supposed to be over at my house an hour ago!"
America took the phone from his ear, "My head hurts too much for this." England, however, had heard his words and snapped, "I bet your damn head hurts from drinking with that Russian bastard!" A pause and then an angry intake of breath, as America looked at the red bar longingly as England yelled, "Where is he, America? Don't you dare protect him! I warned you, he would only—"
Russia leaned over and slid the red bar over England's words. America blinked at him and Russia shrugged, as if it was one of the most casual things he had done was hang up on England's ranting. Something America had never done, out of fear of the older nation's wrath. Yet the older man beside him had done so, without a care in the world.
Russia shrugged, "His voice was making my headache worse." America giggled, as he fell back against the pillows, "I am so screwed…"
Russia shrugged again and America scoffed at him. "Let him spew his angry British nonsense," Russia said, "But should he dare step foot on my property," Russia smiled, as he imagined his beloved wrench pipe. "He and my little friend will have a friendly introduction."
America laughed, "We are so screwed!" Russia scoffed, actually feeling a bit amused and…somewhat happy with the American's presence. "Da, that we are. But," Russia began, smiling and America's face mirrored it in devilry to Russia's surprise. "He would have to find us first."
Russia smiled as America collapsed, spent against him, giggling. "I am so walking funny tomorrow…" Russia smirked as America continued, "I always walk funny after nights with you."
Russia decided to test his lover's pride as he said, "I could always carry you, da ~"America's face turned indignant as he barked, "Like hell you will! I'd rather give birth to twins! Heroes never come in being carried!"
Russia smiled, raising a silver brow, "But they give birth?" America flushed, "Well…sometimes…but only the cool ones do!" he concluded finally after a minute of dead-end thoughts and lame excuses. Russia smiled, "But aren't you the King of Awesome?"
America beamed as sleep threatened to overtake him again. He yawned but still managed to triumph, "Yes! Yes, I am!"
Russia smiled again, "Then, you can give birth to twins." America flushed, "Uh…I don't know…about that…" Giggling, Russia said, "With twins, I can have to the right to claim you as mine and have you become one with me."
America blinked in the dark. "You want to knock me up, so I'll become one with you?" Russia nodded, "If that is what it takes to become one, da."
America scoffed, "Idiot, can't you propose without sounding like a deranged manic?"
"Nope~" Russia replied and America laughed. "You're an idiot," he began but after a light pause, he continued, "But you're my communist idiot. Fuck everyone and everything else. I'd be an idiot to turn that proposal down."
Russia smiled the best he'd ever done, "Sleep well, America."
"Commie bastard," America replied as his eyelids drifted closed.
America would awake the next morning, a new light weight on his left hand. On it, he would find a ring with a very special gem. A blue gem that was the color of America's eyes that shone silver in light and seemed to have snowflakes into its surface. Despite fiercely saying over and over in his mind he wouldn't, a tear escaped him.
"Heroes don't cry…heroes don't—" America began, but then he smiled as tears ran down his features. "Damn communist bastard, he made the world's greatest hero cry…"
America felt the bed shift and then a husky voice breathed in his ear, "Now, Alfred, where are my twins, the world's greatest hero must bear the world's greatest heroic sons, da?"
**FIN**
I'm a sucker for fluff between these two~ :)
REVIEW AND READ, MY LOVES! (OR RISK NEVER KNOWING IF I SHALL WRITE A SEQUEL~ ) :D
America: Of course, you would be the bitch to get my pregnant by this communist jackass.
Me: Yup~ :D
Russia: I like this idea~ You do too, da America~?"
Me: I'll leave you two lovebirds alone for awhile~ *runs for hills* :D
~BrooklynBabbii
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