(This was written for harusamemosuke over at LJ as part of Hetalia Sunshine. Hetalia is not mine).
ooOOoo
"Russia. Next Tuesday. You. Me. Bucket of chicken. Be there or be square."
Russia blinked at the phone. That was just like America, blunt and no hello at all. "America, I—"
"I won't take no for an answer!"
Russia smiled. Of course he wouldn't. "Fine," he agreed, only to hear the click of the line being disconnected a mere second later.
ooOOoo
"Russia!" America exclaimed as he threw the door open before Russia could even knock. As predicted, there was a bucket of chicken in one hand, while in the other was a bag. A checkered blanket was tucked under one arm. "I can't believe you actually showed up!"
Russia smiled, baring his teeth. "I would hate to miss an opportunity to laugh." At you hung in the air between them but America shrugged it off.
"Great!" America laughed and shut the door behind him. "Full speed ahead, then, cap'n!" he called and started off down the sidewalk, leaving a bemused Russia following.
"We're not going far," America said a few minutes later. "The boss was all 'you need to walk more' but then was all 'you should spend time with the giant creepy guy.' …Well, he didn't say that but he might as well have since he did say that I should spend more time—"
Russia placed his hand on America's shoulder, causing him to fall silent. "America. You are babbling."
America gave an almost sheepish smile, surprising Russia. Was America nervous? Russia giggled, but America turned away, suddenly pointing at a park.
"Here we are!" he announced and ran in, throwing his checkerboard blanket on the grass under a tree. He set the bucket of chicken in the middle and began rooting around in the bag. "Take a seat," he muttered, pulling out a couple of paper plates. The plates were quickly followed by a bottle of soda and two plastic cups.
"We are eating here?" Russia asked in surprise, still standing awkwardly over the blanket.
"Uh-huh!" America nodded, smiling up at him. "It's a picnic! Fried chicken, fresh air, smells like freedom, doesn't it?"
"I suppose," Russia murmured and sat down next to him. A plate of chicken was shoved into his hands and an almost over flowing cup of soda plopped down in front of him.
"Eat up," America commanded before digging into his chicken with gusto.
Russia gave the food a skeptical look before taking a bite. It was good, not great, but it was very America. "Did you make this?"
America laughed around a bite of chicken. "Of course! I make the best damn fried chicken ever. No one is ever getting my recipe!" He laughed some more and swallowed a gulp of his drink. "Not that people haven't tried. I can't tell you how many times I've caught that bear of Canada's trying to steal the recipe. But he'll never find it! It's kept well hidden. Not even you could find it, I'll bet."
"I bet I could," Russia shot back, and both returned to their chicken, knowing full well that he could and would find the recipe next time he was given the opportunity.
Russia finished his chicken first, looking at his hands in dismay. They were covered in grease and crumbs and there was nothing to wipe them off with. Nothing, that is, except for the blanket. He eyed it, but America must have perfected mind reading since a container of wet napkins was thrust under his nose.
"Need a wipe?" America asked, grinning that all knowing grin.
Russia wrinkled his nose and took one, carefully cleaning his hands, noticing America doing the same out the corner of his eye. A spot on one hand wouldn't come off and Russia began scrubbing at it intensely, stopping only when he felt like he was being watched. With a side-long glance, he noticed that America was staring at him. "Yes? Do I have something on my face, America?"
"Yeah, actually," America laughed and reached over, using a new wipe to rub at a spot by Russia's lips. His touch lingered for just a moment longer than need be and then he pulled away, exclaiming, "Time to clean up! Then we're gonna go feed the ducks!"
Russia nodded, and threw his used wipes into the now empty bucket of chicken, America doing the same with his trash.
"Here," America said, handing Russia the bucket of trash. "Go throw this away while I clean up the blanket, okay?"
Russia grumbled but did as he asked, turning his back on America and headed for the nearby trashcan. He heard the wooshing sound of the blanket being shook, and he assumed America was just going to fold it up and put it in his bag. When he turned to head back, however, he saw that America was staring at the blanket, seemingly contemplating something.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Russia asked, tilting his head at America.
"D'you think I could wear the blanket like a cape?"
Russia laughed, almost certain that America was joking. At America's pout, however, his laughter trailed off as he realized that he was serious. "Do you not think that it might be a bit too big for you to wear as a cape and be able to walk?"
America wrinkled his nose and sighed. "Yeah… a hero needs to be able to walk in order to save people!" He folded the blanket and shoved it into his bag before grabbing Russia's sleeve, pulling him along the pathway.
Russia found himself staring at America's bag. The blanket sat on top, but it appeared that there were still other things in it. "What is in your bag, America?"
"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," was the vague answer, America too distracted looking for ducks than answering questions. "Ducks!"
Russia was suddenly jerked towards the pond where a group of ducks sat in and around the edge of the water, quacking at innocent bystanders. A small one looked at the approaching new comers and waddled over, stopping at their feet and quacking in what seemed to be a demanding manner. America chuckled and let go of Russia's sleeve, reaching instead into his bag and pulling out a loaf of bread.
"Here you go," America told the duck, ripping a piece of bread off and tossing it down to the duck. It gave another quack and swallowed the bread quickly. America smiled at the duck and then at Russia, pulling out a couple of pieces of bread and handing them to him. "Go ahead and feed them. Don't let your fingers get too close."
Russia took the bread and looked at America in confusion. "Why not?"
"They bite." America tossed a couple of ripped pieces of bread into the middle of the group.
Russia nodded and ripped off the corner of one piece, dropping it to the ground. The small one waddled back over, unfolding a wing to block one of the larger ducks from trying to steal the food while it gulped it down. The large duck bit at the small one and Russia let out a noise, dropping a couple of pieces. "No fighting. We should all be friends," he told the ducks, missing the smile America shot at him.
And so it went, America and Russia ripping off pieces of bread and tossing them at the ducks. It became a game, almost, to see who could feed each duck first, but eventually, they ran out of bread.
"That was fun," America said, brushing his hands off on his jeans.
Russia nodded in agreement, clapping his hands together to knock crumbs off. The sound drew the ducks' attention back to them and the group of birds started moving in, almost looking as if they were trying to gang up on the two.
"Um, America?" Russia said, eyeing one of the larger, meaner-looking ducks.
"Yeah?" America was distracted, again, looking off in the distance instead of their immediate surroundings.
"I think we should be leaving now. The ducks seem angry." Russia took a step back, accidentally nudging a duck which snapped at his leg.
"Huh?" America blinked in surprise and looked down. "Waah! We're out of bread!" America shouted and took a step backwards, as well, also knocking against a duck. "Russia, I think this calls for a tactical retreat."
Russia stared at America. "You mean, run away?"
America snorted. "No, tactical retreat. On three, we run. One… three!" And he took off, leaping over the line of ducks.
Russia rolled his eyes and followed, unable to hold back his laughter.
They got far enough away that they could still hear angry quacking in the background, but no ducks were following them, and they finally felt safe enough to slow down. America started babbling about other things they could do at the park, but Russia tuned him out, instead focusing on what he saw in the distance.
"America," he said finally, interrupting him in his ramble.
"And so—what?" America sounded surprised at being interrupted.
"Are there swings at the playground?" He pointed towards the small playground.
America tilted his head. "Probably. Wanna go look and see?"
Russia nodded, but America was already heading in that direction, and Russia happily followed, humming a tune.
"Look! They do have swings!" America exclaimed and ran to them, completely unable to hide his enthusiasm. Russia held back slightly, almost nervous, but then America challenged him to see who could swing highest and that was it.
Russia wasn't sure what else America had had planned for the day, but he was fairly certain it wasn't spending it at the playground. Regardless, that's where they spent a good portion of the afternoon, running around on various structures, challenging each other, and sometimes bringing the kids in on it. There was one point where a group of kids invited them to have a water balloon fight, and Russia delighted in the fact that America got completely soaked when he constantly took the hit for his young allies. Russia, too, found himself rather soaked as he let a few balloons hit him so as to not discourage the kids. And, if Russia was to be completely honest, he truly didn't mind. Seeing America with his children, laughing, playing, having fun was worth it. That smile alone would be worth being pummeled with a thousand water balloons. And he had the vaguest of impressions that America was feeling very much the same.
"Man, I love goofing off like that," America commented once they had finally taken their leave, slowly walking down the path, his bag limply held in one hand. "It's always so… freeing, y'know? Reminds you that there's more to life than work, work, work."
Russia grunted noncommittally, agreeing completely but not wanting to admit it.
America hummed and looked up, tilting his head at the sky. "Hey, look! Venus is out already!"
Russia followed his glance and nodded. "So it is."
America veered off the pathway again, pulling the blanket out of his bag and returning it to the ground. Russia watched as he spread it out, making sure there were very few wrinkles, before lying down. America frowned and sat up, leaning back on his hands, instead. Russia kept standing, eyebrow raised as America kept adjusting his position.
"Russia, sit down," America said, still moving around.
Russia did, not because America said to, but because he was tired of standing. There was no other reason behind it.
America kept moving around but now he included Russia as part of the environment, finally settling on leaning his back against Russia's, forcing them to support each other as they watched the stars.
"It's so beautiful up there," America said dreamily, his head leaning back slightly to rest against Russia's. "Do you think we'll ever go up there?"
Russia moved his head slightly so that he wasn't straining his neck, but he didn't pull away from America. "We are up there, America."
Russia couldn't see America wave his hand, but he felt it. "No, no. I mean, me and you. Us. Not our citizens."
"Oh," Russia said simply, watching another star seemingly pop into being. "Maybe. It would be fun."
"Yeah," America nodded, and Russia held back his complaint as their heads knocked together. "One day, you and me. We'll go up there. We'll go visit Mars. Venus. The Moon. It'll be a real adventure!"
Russia hummed a positive response. Dreams were nice to have, after all.
They fell silent for a time, Russia still staring intently at the stars when he heard a small noise.
"America," he said softly. No response. "America," he started again. "Are you sleeping?" No response, again. Russia poked America's shoulder. "Are you asleep?"
America jerked awake at the poke, vigorously shaking his head. "Nope! No way. Not asleep. Just… resting my eyes."
"Uh huh," Russia muttered, not convinced.
America sat up straight, pulling away from Russia and stretching. "So, Russia, wanna come over? It's not too late. We could play video games or watch a movie or something. I've gotta couple of new ones I was hoping you'd be willing to share with me. And then after that, we can plan our space adventure!"
Russia laughed and nodded. "I would like that very much, America."
America was positively glowing with his smile as he began to once again put up the checkered blanket.