America let out a yawn, and stretched his arms out behind him as the other nations filed out of the room in which the World Conference was being held. He closed his eyes and layed back in his chair, trying to clear his mind. These conferences were so long, and so very dull. Everyone, especially that dumb Britain thought his ideas were stupid. He was the hero, goddammit! Why couldn't they just listen to him?
"Um, Amerika?" he heard an accented voice in front of him. He opened a single blue eye to look at who had addressed him. A violet-eyed man with pale skin and silvery hair sat atop the desk in front of him, legs crossed.
Alfred's eyes flew open, and he almost fell from his chair. "R-Russia! What the hell do you think you're doing, you fucking stupid commie! Get the hell down from that desk!" The American stood up as Ivan followed suit, stepping down from the desk in his brown, knee high boots, straitening his long, tan coat. "What do you want, Russia?" asked America angrily, annoyed that he had to look up to meet the taller man's scary eyes.
"I was wondering, Amerika, if you had dinner plans? I do not, and if you're not busy, it is always more enjoyable to dine with friends, da? And I am not technically communist anymore, Amerika."
Was that a dinner invitation? thought America. Well, he didn't have any plans, but no company sounded preferable to spending an evening with this creepy mountain of a man. The country was just scary! And he always carried that pipe with him... But what if he said he was busy, and Russia found out he'd been avoiding him? He could hear, in the back of his mind, the Russian's chant, "kolkolkolkolkol..." But he was America! The hero! He wasn't afraid of anything!
Ivan stood, looking down at the American. Why was he taking so long to answer? Surely he knew whether or not he had plans this evening. Maybe America didn't want to spend the evening with him. The Russian's tiny smile wavered, just as Alfred's mouth finally opened with his reply.
"S-sure, Russia. I'd love to have dinner with you." He let out a nervous laugh, and pushed Texas back up the bridge of his nose, as they had been slipping off. Russia's innocent, childlike smile returned once more, and he stepped forward to embrace the shorter, blond man, lifting him a few inches off the ground. America stiffened in his arms, afraid of being suffocated.
"Oh, thank you, Amerika. I had hoped I would not be spending another evening alone."
"Yeah," said America uncertainly, "well, come on then, I'm starved!" The thought of delicious, juicy hamburgers filled his mind and he licked his lips. "I know a couple of great places nearby." He turned to leave the conference room.
"Nyet. None of your fast food hamburger places, I think. Something with a bit more class, da?" He walked past the American, knowing he would follow. "I think Italian would be suitable. Is that agreeable?"
Alfred did follow him, albeit grudgingly. Not only did he have to spend the evening with this monster, but he had no choice in where they were eating? "Sure, Italian sounds good." The pair exited the hotel together in silence. America was nervous, and Russia was exceptionally happy. Nobody usually agreed to spending more time with him than they had to. Maybe, just maybe he could find a friend in this American.
He just hoped he didn't hurt him like he did the others.