"America?" Russia inquired, staring at the nation curiously. At least, that's who he looked like, but he somehow seemed different…
"Wh-where am I?" he stammered, ruining the effect of the glare he was sending the tall Russian, "How the hell did I get here?!"
"How would I know? I was about to ask you the same thing. And you are in London, da?"
America blinked as he digested the information. So he wasn't far from where he remembered being last, but how did he get here? And who was the creep with the scarf and pipe? Wait… A creep with a scarf and a pipe… America did a double take.
"Dude, Russia? What the fuck, man! I could barely recognize you! What are you wearing? Did you dye your hair?!"
Russia frowned in confusion, glancing at the bathroom mirror to see if he looked any different than he usually did.
"These are the clothes that I normally wear, and my hair has always been this color," he replied, eyes narrowing suspiciously, "But you, America, do seem different."
Before America had a chance to react a large, gloved hand grabbed his chin and forced his head up. His eyes widened when he met the piercing gaze of the nation before him. Russia's calculating eyes took in America's shining blonde hair, flawless tanned skin, and those glimmering sky blue orbs that were much to pure to be the eyes of a nation from his world.
"So tell me," Russia growled near America's ear, causing him to flinch, "Who are you really?"
Back in the first dimension, the nations were also holding a World Meeting. When it was about to start, Germany shouted for silence and the room slowly quieted.
"Now, is everyone present and accounted for?" he asked, looking over the nations assembled as they all nodded. After a second he noticed that Italy's hand was in the air and he called on him.
"Ve, where is Mister America?" Italy asked, and Germany finally noticed the country's absence.
"He is probably late again," Germany sighed, "I say it would be best to start the meeting without him."
So the meeting continued like it normally would, but ask the minutes passed and America still did not arrive Germany became more and more annoyed.
"That is it, does anyone have any idea where America is?" he finally asked, and he watched with growing frustration as the countries seated at the table looked at each other and shook their heads.
"I… I know where he is."
Everyone focused their attention on England, and Germany crossed his arms.
"Well? Where is he, then?"
"Well… Um, actually, I don't know exactly where he is, but I know what happened to him and I may be able to find out where he is if-"
Germany raised a hand to stop him.
"What happened?" he asked with a sigh.
"Well, yesterday I was about to cast a spell," there were several snickers heard around the room, and England glared in their direction, "And he came to my house and interrupted me. Quite rudely I might add. So, to shut him up, I let him stay and watch. And of course the wanker had to go and mix two potions that didn't belong together-who knows what the results might have been!- and it kind of… Teleported him away," England explained.
"…Teleported him away," Germany repeated, giving England an odd look, "Well, er… Do you have any idea where he might have been… Teleported to?"
"That's just it," England replied, "I don't. He can be anywhere in the world!"
Germany slapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course. Well, thank you, England, even though that information was of little use…"
"But," England added, "I may know a way to find him…"
America jerked his head away from the strong grip, glaring at the Russian as he rubbed his jaw.
"What are you talking about?! I'm the United States of fucking America, stupid commie!" America managed to hold the angry glare on his face, but panic was beginning to bubble in his chest. When he had looked into Russia's fiery red eyes, he had finally realized that his looks weren't all that was different. His personality also seemed somewhat… Darker. And it scared him. But he was the hero, and the hero should never get scared, especially by a villain like Russia! And suddenly he was struck by a seemingly impossible thought. Maybe Russia… Wasn't the only thing that was different? He ran over to the nearest window to confirm his suspicions, and gasped at the sight that awaited him. It was definitely London, but everything was brightly colored, and the streets were packed with bakeries and colorful shops. Even Big Ben, looming above the rest of the buildings, was hot pink.
"Holy shit…" he gasped, "Am I in, like… The future or something?"
America whirled around to face the other nation occupying the room, who was still staring at him and frowning.
"Maybe when England opened that magic portal thingy the potion I knocked into it somehow changed it into… A magic time travel portal thingy!" he announced, eyes gleaming with pride at his newfound discovery, "Hey Russia, what year is it?!"
"…2012…" he replied, seeming utterly confused by the whole ordeal. He grew even more confused when America's shoulders slumped in disappointment.
"So I guess I'm not in the future…" he muttered, pouting childishly.
Russia growled and tapped his pipe against his leg impatiently.
"Listen. You should start explaining yourself now, and start making more of the sense. Who are you, why are you here, and how did you get here?"
"Listen, dude. I already told you, I'm America. I came here because England somehow teleported me here from his basement. But the last time I was here, everything was… Well, different. And you were different, too! I mean, I haven't even seen your creepy smile the whole time I've been here!" America explained, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation.
"So…" Russia murmured, trying to piece together an explanation, "You're trying to say that England teleported you from a place that looks like this… Where there is a country that looks like me, but acts differently, da?"
America nodded uncertainly. Russia shook his head. None of this made any sense. As far as he knew, England didn't have the technology or know the magic to teleport someone. This man was most likely lying, or just delusional. Unless… He was struck with an idea that seemed even less likely than America's previous solution.
"So… What does London usually look like?" he asked.
"Well, uh… It's a lot drearier and… Less colorful?"
"And what do I usually look and act like?" Russia pressed.
"Um… Well, your hair is usually silvery, and your eyes are purple… Oh, and you usually smile a lot!"
"What about… Italy?"
"Italy? Well, he's kinda dorky, and he's always happy! And he's always hiding behind Germany, 'cause he's scared of, like, everything…" America continued, before tilting his head to the side and looking at Russia curiously, "But why am I telling you this, again…?"
"Well, малютка…" Russia murmured, "It sounds to me like you were transported here from another dimension…"
A heavy silence filled the room, and America stared up at Russia as he tried to absorb what he had just said.
"Another… Dimension?" he asked, chuckling lightly, "What do you mean…?"
"If you are telling the truth then the most likely explanation is that there is an alternate universe filled with different versions of the same people and places," Russia explained calmly, and America looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Different versions of the same people… That's… Crazy, but I guess that it kind of makes sense… But dude, two Russia's?! The world can barely handle one!" he exclaimed, and Russia was certain that if the man kept being this annoying there would soon be a large, pipe shaped dent in his head," …Wait, does that mean that there's another me, too? Sweet! What's he like? Is he totally heroic, like me?"
Russia snorted. "Heroic… Is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of America. He is quite… Violent. Cruel. And unstable. Though he is quick witted, and powerful…
America blanched when he heard Russia's description of his second self. That sounded like… Well, the opposite of him. Except for the powerful part.
"Is everyone in this dimension more… Evil?" he asked, the thought making him shiver.
Russia seemed to ponder this for a second before replying.
"Well… I wouldn't say that we're 'evil,'" he answered darkly, beginning to walk slowly towards the smaller nation, "But some of us are a little… More so than others."
America tried to back away from the approaching Russian, but his back was soon against the wall. His eyes widened when Russia pressed his palms to the walls on either side of him, leaving no room for escape. America could feel his warm breath on his scalp, and he blushed when the warm air billowed around that one sensitive strand of hair that made him feel oh so hot…
And then it was gone. America wasn't sure if he wanted to protest or sigh in relief when the large Russian stepped away.
"I am tired. We may continue this conversation in the morning if you want to," Russia announced bluntly, turning to exit the bathroom.
"Um, uh… Y-yeah, good idea. But- Oh God what are you doing?!" he yelped, realizing that Russia was starting to take off his clothes.
Russia raised an eyebrow. "What does it look like I am doing? I am changing into clothes more comfortable for the sleeping," he replied, continuing to take his shirt off before replacing it with a looser, more comfortable one.
America couldn't help but stare when Russia's chest was exposed for those brief seconds. Not only because it was smooth and chiseled and sexy as hell, but because of the scars that covered it. He also noticed that he didn't take his scarf off, much like the regular Russia…
"C-can you at least warn me or something next time?"
"Da, whatever," Russia growled, seeming to think that it was a matter of little importance.
An awkward silence filled the room yet again, and America coughed nervously to fill it.
"So, uh… Where am I gonna sleep, big guy?" America asked, realizing that there was only one bed in this room.
"I do not care. But you may stay in the bed with me, if you like," Russia replied, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I… What?! Uh, thanks but no thanks, Russki! I'd rather sleep on the floor!" America said hastily.
"Suit yourself," Russia muttered, shrugging and climbing into the bed, "Goodnight, малютка."
"Yeah… 'Night, commie," America yawned, settling down in a plush chair in the corner of the room. It would have to do.
As he drifted off into sleep he thought about the events of his day. Another dimension… This was a new one. He wondered if the other countries here would be as bad as he thought they would. This second Russia somehow managed to be even creepier than the first, and that's saying something. As he finally succumbed to sleep's gentle hold he hoped that the man didn't try anything while he was out…
малютка- Little one or baby
Well, this chapter is a little longer than the last one! Have I metioned how much I love 2p Russia? X3 So, tell me what you think because feedback is appreciated! Thanks!
*the llama is out*