Sorry, about the long break, guys. Finals took over my life this past week.
Let's see if I can make up for last chapter. Enjoy!
America always found it easiest to run long distances when there's a goal.
The goals range from the promise of ice cream to a war winning battle, but at the moment he was hunting down a Russian, preferably before the Russian hunts down anyone else. And there he was, a dead end in a dark, dreary London alley, right where that old lady told him. Who'd have thought it?
"Russia!"
Russia stood up from crouching over something. He turned and looked America right in the eyes. Were they always that violet?
"America."
America didn't know what to say. He looked down at the figure at Russia's feet. A pickpocket, from the looks of him. Russia didn't move.
"So..Uh…What are you…doing?"
"Same to you." Wait. That voice. It was deeper than normal. That was the forth thing!
"Well, I noticed you were acting a little weird at the meeting and everything. Just wanted to check up on ya, make sure everything's okay."
Russia stared back, "I'm fine." He motioned to the man on the ground. "This man tried to steal my wallet."
Knew it! America felt victorious, but the feeling was short lived. Russia's voice made the hair on the back of his neck twitch.
"I was…detaining him. Preventing him from stealing anyone else's possessions."
"Oh. Well, uh…That was pretty heroic of ya!"
Russia gave him a confused look.
"Looking out for other people? That's pretty nice of you. Say, how 'bout we go to a Mickey D's to celebrate?"
Russia looked even more confused. He then looked at the thief and then back to America.
"Why?"
"Uh, I…I uh…"
"You're logic doesn't make sense, America."
Those symptoms… "You're hungry, right?"
For a second Russia looked shocked, but it quickly faded to a neutral expression.
"Da. Fine, I'll go." He walked past America and headed out onto the main street, "You're paying."
It didn't take long to find a McDonald's. America's favorite fast food chain had reached all corners of the globe and London was no different. At the counter America ordered a long, complicated order that the cashier was having a hard time entering. America was used to this, after all, he had very specific tastes when it came to fast food.
"Will that be all, sir…?" She obviously didn't want to ask that but protocol was protocol.
"Yep." America gave his best hero smile and she cheered up a little, mostly glad to not be in the kitchen today. "Oh and whatever this guy wants."
America motioned Russia to come up and he did, placing a fake smile and voice over him. "Just an order of fries please."
Ten minutes and several angry workers later the two countries took their food at sat at a table.
Russia stuffed a few fries in his mouth. His eyebrow quirked when America smirked and giggled to himself.
"Something funny?"
Freakin' Twinkies. "No. Nothing."
For a few minutes the two ate in silence.
"What do you want from me?" Russia forced eye contact with America.
"Mm?" America swallowed the bite of his burger. "What do you mean?"
"You didn't invite me to come out of the goodness of your heart. What are you trying to get out of this?"
America let that sink in, partly to come up with a good reply, partly for dramatic effect. He looked at Russia.
"I know."
"…Know what?"
"I know about 'it', Russia. Why you've been acting so weird today." Russia looked angry. "And! And I wanna help!"
More anger.
"How did you find out?!" Russia leaned across the table and grabbed America by the collar. "Who told you?"
Dang, Russia could be intimidating when he wanted to be. (Which was probably all the time.) America knew this game well. The Cold War showed this side of Russia often and it was easy to read after all those years of walking a tight wire of red death.
"Your sister." Sometimes it was easiest to be straightforward.
Russia let go.
"My…"
"Ukraine came to me asking for help. For both of you."
Russia stared at the table. His sister…? Told America of all people? Why…? Help?
"I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity! It's help!"
"How do you intend to help me?"
"Well, she said it's actually harmful to you when you drink…Uh…when you do it. So, I'm gonna be on constant watch to make sure you don't. And in a few days, you'll be good as new!" Or at least as good as Russia could get mentally…
Russia laughed. It was a dark laugh, dripping sarcasm and sadness. The larger country stood and walked toward the door. America followed.
"Hey!"
"America, you, nor my dear sister, understand anything."
The two left, leaving their trays still on the table (which America despised). Really, they could have at least cleaned up their mess first! But he couldn't loose Russia again. Russia obviously will not cooperate so, time for plan B: Force.
America ran in front of Russia and spread his arms. "HEY!"
"You're really going to try to stop me?" That dark tone was back.
"Depends. Where are you going?"
"Back to my room. I'm tired."
"Well, I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"I need to make sure you don't sneak out and…do something you're not supposed to."
Russia pushed past him. "That will not work."
"Hey, I can keep up with you! It will work."
"That's not what I mean."
"Huh?"
"Ukraine doesn't know what I need. She just wishes the least violent option is the correct one, for my sake." Russia's tone took a sad dip. "Starving myself of my need will only make the attack last longer."
"HUH?"
Russia glanced at America. The young country really was too emotional sometimes. "That pick pocket was no one important. They usually are easy targets." He motioned toward his pocket. "You just show the corner of your wallet or billfold and they come running. It's easy to catch them if you know their coming."
America let that sink in. "You lured him in."
"Da. His blood would have sufficed me for at least the week."
America's stomach twitched. He didn't like how easily Russia could talk about drinking…blood. "How…how much were you going to take?"
"All of it."
America felt like he was going to throw up.
"Squeamish, are we America?"
"N-no! It's just…you were going to…"
"Kill him? Da. But like I said, he was a lowly pickpocket. More than likely someone who had already lost their will to live a fulfilling life a long time ago."
"That doesn't make it right. Just because someone's down doesn't mean they can't get back up!"
America's attitude on life…Russia found it frustrating and amusing at the same time. He was careful about his victims. Always people without hope, never anyone with a will to live. He may be cold-hearted but not so cold-hearted that-
"So…You can't go a few days without… it then?"
Russia looked America in the eyes. "No. Never can. I just hide my work extremely well."
The two walked back to the hotel in silence. Had America not been thinking so hard about the current predicament, his body would collapse from exhaustion. Russia needed…
Russia needed….
Russia needed…
Unconsciously following Russia to his room America stopped outside his door.
"Ukraine will not know the truth, da?"
"I won't tell her."
"Good-"
"On one condition…"
Russia's eyes narrowed. He didn't like bargaining with America, especially on such a touchy subject.
"Da?"
"You drink some of my blood."
Russia froze. "What?"
America looked down at the floor and then back up at Russia's eyes. "I said I'd help. And you said drinking …blood…helps. I'm the hero remember?"
Russia knew that last part was more to America reassuring himself. Russia thought for a moment. America's blood…He'd wanted it for so long…and now…
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." No second-guessing. Russia ushered America in.
Russia's room was mostly decorated in deep browns and reds. The room felt very warm. America sat on a couch along the left wall. Russia sat next to him, and looked at America's hands. They were shaking. He looked at America's eyes. They were focused. Conflicting…
"America, do you know what you're doing?"
"If…if it'll help you…then…yes."
"And what if I drain you dry?"
"I…trust you. From one country… to another."
Russia was taken back by that. Trust. America trusted him?
The bigger nation leaned in, an inch from America's throat. He placed a large hand on the opposite side of
America's neck. "Last chance, America."
He laughed nervously, "Heh…well, if it's not the hero it'll be somebody else right…?"
Russia didn't reply.
America squirmed as Russia's lips touched his neck. He felt Russia bare his teeth. No fangs, Al! Snap out of it! Just teeth!
He felt Russia bite down, and it hurt. It hurt but it was over in an instance. The worst was over, right? The bite was done and-
Russia licked the bite.
America's neck was burning up. That wet texture... His heart was pounding, and it reverberated in his ears. The shaking was still there, but America decided being as perfectly still as possible was the best choice of action.
Russia couldn't think straight. It was just a delicious as he had imagined, better even. Blood was never sweet, it was always metallic and left a strange aftertaste, but America's blood…it was the epitome of any vampires dream. It was what he craved and it pooled in his stomach so nicely... He could taste all of America. His pride, his determination, his warmth, his love, his hate, his work, his being. Everything he personified. More…Russia wanted more.
With a hungry moan, Russia pulled America to his chest. One of his strong arms wrapped around America and held him in place, the other gripped his head.
America felt light headed. His strength was sapped. He couldn't push Russia away. "Ru-Russi….a"
Russia growled at him and took another gulp.
"R-Russia!" Even though he was yelling it came out barely above a whisper. He fell limp against Russia.
Russia stopped. Blood dripping down his chin, he pulled America way in a panic. Had he taken too much?
"America…" He shook the smaller country. America's eyes barely opened.
"Are….you…b…better?"
Russia stood, laying America on the couch. He rushed to the mini-fridge in the room and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He poured some in a paper cup.
America concentrated on breathing. His head hurt, and the room wouldn't stop spinning. The twitching in his fingers was no longer from nervousness but from blood loss. Too much…Russia had taken too much.
Something made of paper touched his lips. Russia's fingers opened his mouth and the paper cup slowly slipped a tangy, sweet liquid into his mouth... Orange juice?
"This will help…" What was that look on Russia's face? Embarrassment?
"Ah…"
"Don't try to talk, please…" Russia looked panicked too.
Once the cup was empty, Russia slowly sat down on the couch and propped America's head on his lap.
"America…" America could barely hear him. "America…I'm sorry…"
America was vaguely of something soft touching his forehead. "Wha…?"
"A kiss…" Russia's voice cracked. Nervous? He sounded on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry…. this calms me down." Russia placed another gentle kiss on America's forehead. He ran his fingers through his America's hair. The motion made America realize how tired he was. Sleep sounded very good right about now.
"Please rest. I… I couldn't control myself. You are different…you are…"
America zoned out. Before he fell into complete unconsciousness, Russia's voice reached him.
"…please rest, my giver."
Longer chapter is longer?
Russia's had a taste of blood. Is this going to be enough or is America trapped? Find out next time!
As always reviews would be great. I love hearing what you all think. ^_^
