Don't Say The Number Nine
Just a little RusGer drabble
"America! America! Wait up!" The tall Russian called after the crazy speed-walking American. America stopped abruptly, looking around the crowded street, hearing a name being called. It took America a few minutes to realize that the man was saying his name, because it was said with such a thick accent.
"Russia?" America said in disbelief. The Russian man looked nothing like himself. Russia had slicked back his platinum brown hair with gel, resembling Germany's hairstyle. He had on a black undershirt, light blue unbuttoned dress shirt that sleeves came down to his elbows, and over that he wore a dark blue vest. Accompanying that were orangey tan pants, black dress shoes, and his usual champagne colored scarf.
Russia smiled and motioned him over. America slowly walked towards Russia, means of escape passing though his mind. "We need to talk in private," Russia said, his smile dropping and a serious look appearing in its place. He then turned and walked into a little bar. America knew he had to follow or else, it was unspoken.
"Uh, what is this about Russia?" America said quietly. He was afraid of the answer. Ever since the cold war, everyone thought that the relationship between his and Russia's country had gotten better, but that was never the case. They had a terrible relationship, even went so far as to say they hated each other, but kept up good appearances for the reputation.
"I have invited Germany over to this place. He's not here yet, as you can see. You're going to help me trick him," Russia said in a devious voice.
"Oh, that's why you're so fancied up. You're going on a date with Germany! Russia and Germany sittin' in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" America said and began to laugh, "Wait a minute, Germany's not gay."
"That's why I need you to help me trick him. Here's the plan," Russia said. They're voices became hushed. Ten minutes later Germany arrived. He wore the same green uniform that he always did. America was on the opposite side of the room.
"Russia, what did you have to talk with me about?" The German said.
"We're going to play a little game. Just count to eight, please," Russia said happily.
"What's the catch?" Germany asked. America slowly crept toward the two.
"Just don't say nine," Russia said slyly. Germany looked at the Russian closely.
"And if I do?" Germany said.
"You have to go on a date with me. Trust me , it wasn't my idea. America said that you weren't that stupid," Russia said, grinning wildly.
"Fine, um. one two, three, four, five, six" Germany continued. America was almost behind the German. "seven, eight-"
"FUCK ME, GERMANY" America screamed.
"NEIN!" The German yelled. (Nein means no in German by sounds like nine in English) Russia gave a hardy laugh and looked at the German.
"I guess that you will have to go on a date with me, Da?"