Chapter 2: Dinner and other shenanigans

America stood in front of the meeting room, getting ready for his presentation. There were only two minor things bothering him. First, there was this headache of major proportions. America really couldn't have chosen a better night to get wasted. Secondly, there was the incessant staring he received from a certain Russian. Normally he wouldn't mind the attention, but considering the events of that morning he wasn't all that pleased with the gesture. In fact, he felt rather embarrassed.

America cleared his throat and looked at his fellow nations, deliberately skipping Russia.

"Well then, about the problem of world hunger. I say we use our science to develop trees that can grow hamburgers, and plant them all around the world. I would be the hero in saving everybody from starvation of course, but I'm gonna need your support to realize this project." The sunny blond leant back in his chair as the nations burst out in argument.

Japan had started saying he agreed with him, before being cut off by an angry Switzerland, telling the nation he should state his own opinion (surprise, surprise).

"We can't make hamburger trees, you git!" England said, giving him a thumbs-down. However, his words sounded less harsh than usual, because of his own hangover.

France simply laughed his perverted laugh, causing England to scowl at him. Normally he would have lunged at him, but he was held back by the pain on the inside of his skull.

Northern Italy decided a pasta tree would be even better, which caused Romano to curse at his fratello for his stupidity. That in turn caused Spain to join in saying tomato trees would be good as well, making Romano remind him in a not so friendly way that there already were tomato plants.

Greece was fast asleep, as usual.

While everyone went at it, America rubbed his eyes, happy with the distraction he had created. If only they'd be a little less loud. His eye caught Russia, who was happily smiling away at the discussions that were taking place around him. He suddenly looked up, meeting America's gaze. The American immediately looked away, the awkwardness still fresh in his memories.

What had Russia been thinking, sharing a bed with him when being as drunk as he must have been? He hadn't the slightest idea. Not only that, they weren't exactly friends. Sure, they weren't enemies anymore, but outside of meetings they didn't really talk all that much.

His thoughts were interrupted by Germany, who slammed his hands down on the table and told the others to be quiet. America sighed and rose from his seat. Time for part two of his presentation.

xoxox

The meeting was officially over. Tomorrow, everyone would leave for their respective countries, and most of them wouldn't meet again until the next World Conference. America yawned lazily. No going out tonight, he just wanted to head straight to his room, call room-service, maybe watch some television, and then off to bed.

On the other side of the room, Russia was preparing to leave as well. He had a difficult time deciding what to do this evening. His Baltics had left the room as soon as the meeting had ended, so he couldn't ask them to accompany him for a drink. Belarus wasn't here, and even if she were, he shivered at the thought of spending his free time with her. She was a nice girl, but the idea of getting married to her was just… wrong.

Russia sighed and scanned the remaining nations. He did not get along with Poland, so he got erased from his mental list immediately. Most of the other countries were chatting with each other, and Russia didn't feel like imposing. Whenever he tried to make small-talk with the others, he always felt unwanted. Russia hated feeling that way.

From the corner of his eye, the tall nation noticed that America was still packing his things, and there was no one around him. His face brightened. America was his new friend after all, so that meant he wouldn't mind spending the evening together, right? Russia quietly made his way over to the other side of the room.

America did not notice the shadow that snuck up on him. It was only when he felt a heavy hand drop down on his shoulder that he jumped and rapidly spun around. Russia was smiling innocently at him, causing America to shudder.

"Hey, dude! What'd you want?" He tried to smile, because a hero wasn't afraid of rather imposing nations who sometimes acted like psychopaths and slept in his bed just because he asked them to.

"Amerika, would you care to have dinner with me?"

The American blinked, not able to comprehend the question.

"…Come again?"

"Dinner. You know what that is, da?" he repeated, frowning slightly.

"…Sure?" America asked. Russia's smile immediately widened, and he straightened his back, waiting for the other to finish packing his things.

America slowly ran over the possibilities for this offer. Either Russia wanted him to pay for having to drag his drunken ass back to the hotel, or he had chosen a new victim to torture. There was always that third possibility though…

The blue-eyed nation looked up, suddenly suspicious.

"…This is not to discuss any political business, right? No becoming-one-with-me kinda stuff?"

Russia chuckled. "Da, it is just personal!"

America nodded, not certain if he should feel relieved or even more concerned. If it wasn't for any political stuff, Russia had to be mad at him for last night. True, it was his own fault for listening to a wasted nation, but America never completely understood Russia's thoughts and motives.

He sighed. Well, for now he would just go with the Russian and see where they'd end up. 'No blessed alone time tonight,' he thought bitterly.

xoxox

America quietly followed Russia to his restaurant of choice. It appeared to be a small Italian bistro.

"I didn't know you liked Italian food," America said, raising an eyebrow at his companion.

Russia shrugged. "It is all right. You are fine with this place?"

America nodded, as Russia held the door open for him. He reluctantly went inside. Holding doors open was his thing, he was supposed to be the hero after all. A friendly waitress guided the two to a table in the back of the establishment. She smiled at America, but when she saw the look on Russia's face, she quickly apologized herself and scurried away.

America looked at his menu, uncomfortable with the stretching silence. He gazed over the top of his card. Russia was occupied with his own menu. He had refused to take off his scarf, even though it was quite warm inside of the restaurant. Now that America thought about it, he'd never seen the Slavic nation without his scarf before. Did he ever take the thing off? Well he had to, of course. No one would take a bath or shower with a scarf. …Would they?

Russia had decided, and laid down his menu as the waitress carefully approached the table. "Can I take your orders?" she asked, afraid to look Russia in the eyes. When she accidently did though, she couldn't look away. One does not see violet eyes on a daily basis.

Russia coughed, making the woman jump. She suddenly remembered who she was staring at, and looked terrified. America sighed. The Russian really had to stop being so intimidating. He reminded himself that he hadn't picked something to eat yet, and quickly scanned the options while Russia placed his order.

"The Rib Eye Steak with Gremolata," he said, picking up on one of the only familiar words he could detect.

He smiled at the waitress, who blinked sheepishly, captivated by his looks. After another glance at Russia, she worked twice as fast to bring them their drinks and some bread with garlic butter, before hiding in the kitchen. The combination of a hottie and a possible axe-murderer had her feeling quite confused.

America noticed how hungry he was, and took a slice of bread. Russia kept staring at him, childish smile in its usual place. The sunny blond grew nervous under the attention.

"…So, why have dinner with me?" he asked when the silence grew unbearable.

Russia was surprised by the question, but never showed it on the outside. He didn't want to tell the real reasons. That would make him look pathetic. And if there was one thing Russia didn't want himself to be considered as, it was pathetic. So, he jumped to an explanation that sounded fairly logical.

"I spent time with you last night, now it is your turn to return the favour."

America nodded. He knew it! It was a fair reason. At least it didn't involve any pain. America really hoped it didn't.

"What are you thinking about?" Russia asked.

America didn't really want to give him ideas by mentioning pain and torture, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I was thinking about dinosaurs."

Russia cocked an eyebrow, and curiously tilted his head. "Please enlighten me. You are fond of dinosaurs?"

America immediately picked up on the possibility to conversation.

"Hell yeah, dinosaurs are awesome! They're like, these gigantic monsters that lived billions of years ago, you know? I wonder what would happen if they'd exist today. Not like Godzilla, but you know, maybe they could be our pets like in the Flintstones?"

Russia patiently listened to America's excited ramblings. He nodded and made sounds of appreciation at exactly the right moment, encouraging the younger nation to continue.

"And this one time I went to an archaeology site, and they had found this skeleton of a tyrannosaur rex!" America said, eyes shining at the memory.

"You like archaeology?" Russia asked, interested.

"Hell yeah dude, discovering things is really cool! When you find nothing it can be kinda dull, but when you do! I feel like Indiana Jones whenever we actually uncover some ancient artefact or find bones from animals and creatures that are extinct! You know the feeling?"

Russia had to admit he didn't. America kept talking on and on, only briefly interrupted by the arrival of their food, before continuing as if he'd never stopped. He got so excited talking about one of his hobbies with a listener that didn't look bored or annoyed, that he completely forgot the other was Russia.

He finished his story when they were nearly done with their food, suddenly very aware that he'd done pretty much all of the talking.

"Sorry dude, you must be pretty fed up with me by now," he apologized shyly.

Russia simply shook his head and kept smiling. "Not at all, Amerika. I find it very endearing to see you this excited about something that is not food."

America huffed. "I so can get excited about stuff other than food! And I'm not endearing at all!"

Russia simply chuckled as America finished his food.

'Stupid commie bastard.' Which suddenly reminded him of the reason they were here.

"…Hey, sorry again about last night. You really didn't have to listen to me, you know."

Russia waved his apologies away. "Do not apologize. We are even now, da?"

America nodded and took a sip of his soda. No alcohol tonight. Now that he was finished, he noticed Russia staring at him again. He tried to act as if he hadn't noticed, but quickly grew agitated.

"…So, got any hobbies you want to share?" he reluctantly asked.

The older nation lit up, and thought about it for a few moments.

"I like to knit."

America couldn't completely hide a snort. Russia's expression immediately darkened.

"You think knitting is funny?" he asked, voice noticeably lower than a moment before.

"No, not at all!" America quickly spat out. "You just didn't seem like the knitting type to me, that's all." A memory of Russia knitting during a meeting did pop up while he said this, making it harder not to laugh.

Russia slowly leant over the table, grabbing America's collar.

"If you keep laughing, I will have to resort to less desirable actions, da?"

"I'm not laughing!" America yelped. Even though he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an angry Russia was not something he wanted to see this night. "I'm sorry, knitting is very manly! In fact, I'd like to try it sometimes!"

Russia's mood shifted in the blink of an eye.

"Really, you would? I would be happy to teach you!"

Great. Now he'd have to go knitting with Russia sometime in the future. Because something told him the older nation wouldn't easily forget the offer.

After that, Russia paid for dinner and they went back to the hotel. America went to his room, tagged by the Russian. When he reached his door, he turned around.

"Well, thank you for dinner. And again, sorry for… for last night."

Russia nodded. "I told you, it was my pleasure."

He hesitated a bit longer while America unlocked the door to his room. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering why Russia didn't leave.

"Goodnight?" he said, sentence ending in a question mark. He would really love to go to sleep now.

Russia looked like he wanted to say something, but then nodded and left for his own room. America wondered what that had been, but shrugged it off as his eyes fell upon his bed. Now, it was time for some well-deserved rest.

xoxox

Russia sat on the edge of his mattress. Even though it was the exact same building, his room felt considerably colder than America's. He had truly enjoyed the evening, but now he was alone once again. He sighed. For a moment he had wanted to ask the younger nation to stay with him again this night, but he'd hesitated. Without the cover of alcohol, it felt like America didn't really want him there. He never said it, and Russia couldn't imagine his reaction if he had in fact asked the question. But something in the way his muscles tensed nervously told the Russian that he'd rather be left alone. Russia didn't want to impose.

Of course, Russia understood he couldn't take up all of America's free time. Even back when his house was full of people, he had spent the night by himself. It was just that the newly-found source of attention had him craving for more.

Oh well. He had already spent some time alone with America twice now, so that would have to do for the time being.

That night he dreamt of the time when the Baltics lived with him, when his house wasn't as empty as it was now. And when he woke up, his resolve to change that was even stronger than before.

xoxox

Second chapter is done! The first draft didn't even have the restaurant scene in it, but as I began writing it just flowed out. I hope you guys like it.

Words:

Fratello: Brother